

BOOK TWO

THE INNER CIRCLE

HOLY SPIRIT

CAEL MCINTOSH

Copyright © 2015 Cael McIntosh

All rights reserved.

ISBN-10: 0646938150

ISBN-13: 978-0-646-93815-8

DEDICATION

For the broken.

CONTENTS

Prologue: Someone Missing

1 Sometimes Blood is Not Thicker than Water

2 Tears

3 The Curse

4 The High Elder

5 Distant Horizon

6 It Begins

7 Upon the Wind

8 The End is Nigh

9 Demons

10 Unexpectation

11 Your People

12 Sa'Tanist

13 Betrayal

14 Rain

15 The Clouds Are Caving In

16 Wept For

17 Tension

18 The Devil's Crown

19 Far-a-mael's War

20 The Inner Monster

21 Home

22 A Turn for the Worst

23 The Sufferers

24 Black Powder Bombs

25 Hel Fire

26 Mother

27 A Formidable Foe

28 In the Dead of Night

29 He Gathering Winds

30 Disruption

31 Disunity

32 Murderer

33 The Disquiet Spirit

PROLOGUE

SOMEONE MISSING

His fingers ached due to a temperature lower than that which he'd felt in many years. Snowflakes gently gathered and clung to his short beard and dark hair. His back was sore from countless days riding atop a horse and yet still he persevered.

What made an ordinary countryman travel half the length of the world leaving both his home and business to crumble? Gifn Eltari loved his daughter.

Across the empty expanse of smooth ice towered the immense frozen cliffs that were home to the secretive cleff societies of the Elglair. The cleff that Gifn had fixed firmly in his sights was known as the Sixth and he'd travelled a hazardous journey to reach the place. He'd ridden on little more than faith and a few offhand tips from strangers in foreign cities that had happened upon the party he now perused so vehemently.

Gifn had travelled from Elmsville to Sitnic and on into Riverend, where he'd been tipped off in regards to his daughter's destination. The man warned that Gifn's daughter had boarded a riverboat destined to cut through the heart of Cold Wood. Gifn dared not to take that route, instead travelling all the way from Sat Elmore to Sat Effin and finally into Sat Elam. It was there that he discovered rumours of an Elglair woman having passed through the city with a young companion. Up until reaching Sat Elmore, Gifn could've only been a matter of days behind the travellers, but having had to take the long journey north of the city he could only imagine how far behind he'd fallen.

The scenery surrounding him would've been beautiful to the hardest of hearts, but for Gifn the ancient place held memories naught but grim. The great cliffs drew up painful recollections of the price his wife had had to pay to be him.

Jil-e-an--or, as she'd later came to be called, Jillian--had very rarely spoken of her home in the Eighth Cleff. In many ways, Gifn had been aware of her desire to return, even just one last time. But that was impossible. It was forbidden that any Elglair should marry an outlander. Even association was frowned upon. Chapped lips smiled grimly as Gifn drove his horse ever closer to the waiting city. Jil-e-an had been a strong woman and she'd chosen a life of her own desire. If only she could've lived it a little longer.

When the newly married couple had chosen Elmsville--a quiet little town in Gor Narvon--as a place to settle down, they'd done so under the impression that there, they would be safe. The place was as far away from the Frozen Lands as one could get while maintaining a healthy distance from Old World. At the time, it was commonly believed that not a single whisp had made it so far north as Elmsville in well over a hundred years. It'd been a cruel twist of fate that one should reach their town with the intent of killing Jil-e-an.

Jil-e-an had died without making a sound. It was the screaming of his infant daughter that had woken Gifn. At the sound of her piercing cry, he'd thrown the blankets aside and hurried out into the hallway. There he'd found Jil-e-an's lifeless body, collapsed outside their daughter's bedroom. All that was left to tell of her demise was the final slithers of black mist penetrating her flesh.

When the screaming came to a stop, Seteal went for many days without uttering a sound at all. She didn't cry for food. She didn't laugh or respond to any of the games she'd once enjoyed. It was as though she'd felt her mother's death.

A shiver ran down Gifn's spine. She very probably had.

Seteal had been a quiet, somewhat complacent child, waiting until her teenage years before developing a hot-headed and often rude disposition. Gifn had never told his daughter of her heritage. He knew her too well. If Seteal had discovered the truth, she'd have likely packed a bag and travelled to the Frozen Lands of her own volition. As a half-caste, there she would find only rejection and ridicule. True to Jil-e-an's wishes, Gifn had successfully kept the secret--up until so many weeks ago when the Elglair came knocking.

Even now, Gifn was unable to fathom why they'd come for Seteal. Jil-e-an had said that they never would. Not only was Seteal a shame to the Elglair, but by their standards, she was the child of an illegitimate marriage. If the Elglair chose any action at all, Jil-e-an felt sure that they'd more likely avoid Elmsville than enter into it.

'Whoa there.' Gifn called his horse to a stop several strides before a steep decline, where the ground sank to form an immense basin valley. Never having been to the Sixth Cleff, he'd made sure to be cautious approaching it. The Elglair were known for their trickery and the basin was very likely a defence mechanism against invasion. Climbing steadily from his saddle, Gidn made his way over to the edge. The cleff was composed of the ice-carved structures one would expect in the Frozen Lands, but upon closer inspection, it became evident that all was not well in the Elglair city.

At the centre of the cleff was a pile of partially melted rubble so large that Gifn could only guess at the size of the structure that'd previously stood there. Great pools of water had formed where the ground had caved in. It was very difficult to melt Elglair-manufactured ice and Gifn couldn't help but wonder what might've happened to destroy it. Other buildings in the city had been decimated, too, but none more so than the one at its centre.

On the eastern side of the basin, a hidoan of thousands had been gathered, but plenty more of the Elglair soldiers milled about in the central parts of the cleff. Tents of varying sizes filled the area to the east. It was there that Gifn realised he'd find the man he sought.

After about twenty minutes of searching for an entrance into the basin, Gifn came upon a sloping pathway that led down to the eastern side. Realising that his horse was nervous about descending the dangerous terrain, Gifn tied the animal to an ice tree and continued on alone. Eventually the pathway levelled out and he found himself walking cautiously amongst Elglair homes. Men and women going about their business turned to stare at him, their white pupils locking on him in astonishment.

A small boy pulled at his mother's arm. 'What's wrong with his eyes?' The woman responded only by dragging her son in the opposite direction. Gifn shook his head in disbelief.

Eventually the roads thinned out and Gifn found himself travelling across open planes as he approached the eastern military operation. Small tents filled the space on the outskirts of the gathering, but as he got closer, he noticed more prestigious abodes at the centre. As he slid past the first row of tents, he began to wonder how long it would take before he was noticed and questioned.

Gifn wasn't left wondering very long. The cold blade of a long sword touched the flesh of his neck and he froze immediately.

'Come no farther, outlander,' a young and rather nervous looking an'hadoan threatened. By the look of him, Gifn doubted the boy had ever even been outside the Frozen Lands. 'For what reason have you entered our cleff?'

'Where's Far-a-mael?' Gifn stepped back from the blade and turned to face the young man.

'Far-a-mael of the Eighth Cleff?' The young man's jaw dropped.

'The one and only,' Gifn said through gritted teeth, remembering the living torrid that the old man had put Jil-e-an through.

'The man you speak of is now addressed as War Elder Far-a-mael of the Unified Cleffs,' the young soldier announced, patriotic glint in his eye.

Gifn raised his eyebrows. It was just like Far-a-mael to attach himself to such a presumptuous title. 'I don't care what he calls himself. I'm here to see Far-a-mael. And, son, you're not going to stop me.' Gifn placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. It'd been many years since he'd used it, but Gifn doubted he'd forgotten how.

'I'll take you to my superior.' The young man stepped back nervously.

'And who might that be?' Gifn enquired. 'Who might you be, for that matter?'

'I'm an an'hidoan,' the boy said proudly. 'My name is Wil-u-ke and I'll be taking you to see Sy Tim-a-nie.'

'Well, we'd better get a move on.' Gifn rubbed his forehead tiredly, having never quite gotten used to Elglair names and titles. 'I'm not getting any younger.'

'I'm sorry, sir.' The an'hidoan's face was filled with concern. 'You must be at least a hundred. We'll leave right away.'

Gifn sighed but refused to correct the boy. Elglair were renowned for their longevity, typically living past their two hundredth birthday. The youth were taught to respect age as though it was status and as far as Gifn was concerned, the older they thought him, the better.

As Gifn hurried after the dexterous young man, weaving in between the tents before him, he soon became aware of other young an'hidoans keeping a close eye on him. Even the occasional gil paused to shoot him a rather disapproving glance, but seeing as though he had Wil-u-ke as an escort, the pair remained unhindered.

'Sy Tim-a-nie.' Wil-u-ke paused by the canvas flap of a rather impressive looking tent. 'May I have audience with you?'

'Come in, Wil-u-ke,' a rather dissonant voice replied.

'Stay here.' Wil-u-ke pointed a finger at Gifn's chest. 'I'm serious. If you step out of line this close to the War Elder's tent, there's no telling what your punishment will be,' the young man warned before stepping into Sy Tim-a-nie's tent.

Gifn turned in a slow circle, taking in his immediate surroundings. Most of the tents in this part of the camp were rather elaborate, but one of them towered above the others and its length stretched much farther back. Wil-u-ke had said that they were close to Far-a-mael's tent. Did Gifn dare seek out the man on his own?

The tent flap was pulled aside and Wil-u-ke stepped out, followed by an older man who could only have been Sy Tim-a-nie. Tim-a-nie's voice did not match the physique of the man standing before Gifn, a weasel of a fellow with a sharp nose. 'So you're the outlander who dares to stride into our cleff unannounced? What business could you possibly have with the War Elder?' he finished with a snarl, eyeing Gifn's modest garb distastefully.

'He took my daughter,' Gifn spat. 'I've come to retrieve her.'

'Ah, yes . . . the Eltari girl.' Tim-a-nie nodded. 'Of course. I'm terribly sorry, but this is as far as you may come, outlander. You must return to whichever rock it is you crawled out from under.'

'I've travelled for weeks to get here and you expect me to simply turn around and leave?' Gifn raised his arms in disbelief. 'Not a chance.'

'Leave!' In an instant, Tim-a-nie's sword went from its scabbard to Gifn's throat. 'You've been denied an audience with the War Elder.'

'All right, all right!' Gifn's eyes bulged in alarm and he took a step back. 'I'll go.'

'Good.' Tim-a-nie smiled mockingly. 'Wil-u-ke. Would you kindly escort--'

Before the sy'hadoan could say another word, Gifn pulled his sword free and started swinging. 'I want my daughter back!' he shouted, anger and determination blinding him to the danger in which he'd put himself.

Sy Tim-a-nie leapt backward and raised his sword to ward off Gifn's blow, but he'd caught the man by surprise and continued striking until finally, by some miracle, Tim-a-nie lost his grip and the sword fell. Fear glistened in the man's eyes as he stood slowly without a weapon, Gifn's sword pressed firmly against his throat. A large group of an'hidoans had gathered to watch the duel and now gaped in disbelief that their mighty sy'hadoan had been overpowered.

'Far-a-mael!' Gifn bellowed, his voice echoing sharply against the silence of the shocked soldiers. 'Far-a-mael! Come out and face me like a man. We did everything you asked. We disappeared for the sake of your ego. Why have you come back now?' Silence answered Gifn's taunts. 'I'll kill him!' Gifn shouted furiously, increasing the pressure of his sword against Tim-a-nie's neck. 'Show yourself, Far-a-mael, or I swear to Maker, I'll kill him.'

'Now, now,' the ancient voice spoke softly and yet it seemed impossible to tell from which direction it came. 'There's no need for such violence, is there?' The flap on the elaborate tent twenty strides away slid open to reveal Far-a-mael's elderly although strong form. Arms crossed tightly across his chest, the War Elder appeared to glide across the ice without any effort whatsoever.

'Mister Eltari,' Far-a-mael murmured, delicately placing a single finger on the blade of Gifn's sword. 'What has driven you to such madness?' He put a little pressure on the sword and Gifn found himself lowering it subordinately.

'I need to find my daughter,' he almost blubbered, a great tiredness overwhelming him. Gifn was exhausted to the point that he felt that if he should only be pushed, he would collapse in defeat.

'Oh, hush, hush.' Far-a-mael patted him sympathetically, as a father might do his boy. 'I know you must be tired. You've travelled so very far. It seems unfair that you should be turned away now.'

Finally, someone understood. Gifn wept openly. All these years, he'd misjudged Far-a-mael. The man was like a father to him and he just knew that he could trust him with anything. Far-a-mael took Gifn's chin in his hand and stared deep into his eyes with those piercing white pupils. 'I'm so sorry to inform you of this news, my old friend, but your daughter is dead.'

'No,' Gifn moaned and fell to his knee. 'No, not Seteal, too. Not my Seteal. Why did you take her? She was safe with me.' He sobbed uncontrollably, staring up at Far-a-mael through tear-filled eyes.

'She was not safe.' Far-a-mael shook his head regretfully. 'Gifn . . . a legion of demons had discovered she was Elglair and they were coming for her. We tried to keep her from them, but it was no use. They were too strong.'

'I don't believe you!' Gifn cried, although inside he felt a powerful urge to accept every word the man uttered.

'Here.' Far-a-mael opened a canvas sack that Gifn hadn't even noticed him carrying until now. 'Is this not her dress?' He removed the stained cloth and Gifn recognised it immediately as Seteal's. He likewise recognised the stains of both human and silt blood spattered across its surface.

Gifn reached for the dress and held it like a child would their favourite toy. Seteal's sweet scent still lingered beneath the metallic tang of blood. Words escaped Gifn thereafter. He fell into the snow weeping for what seemed like eternity. Far-a-mael loomed over him, occasionally rubbing his back and gazing into his eyes with curiosity. Each time he did, Gifn felt a reaffirmation that Far-a-mael had spoken the truth. Seteal was dead. He'd failed Jil-e-an, he'd failed as a father--and worst of all, he'd failed his daughter.

As the sun began to set, Gifn found the strength to stand, and when he did Far-a-mael placed a hand heavily on his shoulder, once more looking into his eyes. 'The best you can do now is to go home and mourn your daughter, Gifn. The people of Elmsville are kindly. They'll take care of you in your grief.'

'Of course . . . you're right.' Gifn sobbed behind red-rimmed eyes. 'I'll go home,' he murmured, turning away dejectedly.

Blind to the prying eyes surrounding him, Gifn drifted back to the gently sloping ramp and away from the Sixth Cleff. There was nothing he could do for Seteal anymore.

CHAPTER ONE

SOMETIMES BLOOD IS NOT THICKER THAN WATER

Small groups of four to six an'hadoans moved about in packs, leaving Seteal with no doubt as to with which task they'd been assigned: finding her. Fastening her hood a little more securely over her head, Seteal kept her eyes down and followed El-i-miir along dark alleyways and between frozen buildings. Ilgrin kept himself to the darkest of shadows, but everyone present was well aware that the demon's disguise would become useless with the rising sun.

'This way,' the Elglair woman hissed over her shoulder. 'Quietly,' she warned. 'We have to enter the street.'

'It's not safe,' Seeol the elf owl piped in from his place on Seteal's arm.

'It's our only choice,' El-i-miir replied dismissively, glancing back the way they'd come. It was then that Seteal made the mistake of following the woman's gaze only to momentarily make eye contact with a stranger.

'Who goes there?' the an'hadoan called from the far end of the alleyway.

'Run!' El-i-miir cried.

'Stop!' the an'hadoan shouted as the group took off around the corner and into the dimly lit street.

'Over here.' El-i-miir raced across the road toward a large house built from ice bricks. The Elglair home had beautiful glass windows embedded in its surface at various locations and a large door carved from a single sheet of ice. Without hesitation, the forsaken rei banged on the door. Before long, it swung open, but the man within turned away in disbelief. The stranger had a neatly trimmed black moustache and beard. His eyes were dark and it didn't look as though he'd slept in days. Of course, this was no surprise, given the recent fate of his eldest daughter.

'Papa,' El-i-miir panted, frantically waving the others inside and slamming the door behind them. 'Papa,' she repeated as her father strode over to the window and stared out onto the street without once looking at his daughter.

'You shouldn't have come here,' Arl-an-dor intoned as he drew the curtains and turned around, but his eyes shifted immediately to the figure looming behind her. His jaw worked repeatedly as he threw out his hands defensively. 'Silt,' he finally choked out. Ilgrin fell to his knees, his face twisted in agony as Arl-an-dor assaulted his aura.

'Stop it!' El-i-miir raced toward her father. 'I can explain.'

'Explain what, El-i-miir?' Arl-an-dor's voice broke. 'Explain why you've brought a demon into our home when your mother and sisters are sleeping upstairs? I'm beginning to think the allegations against you were true,' he snarled, twitching his hand and driving Ilgrin onto all fours.

'I said stop it.' El-i-miir raised her hands to form a counter-strike against her father. Unable to compete with his daughter's abilities, Arl-an-dor lowered his hands and moved away. His eyes became vacant and he took a seat in the chair across the room.

'How dare you affiliate me,' the man snapped upon regaining his senses, and leapt to his feet. El-i-miir merely repeated her former actions and again the man sat submissively.

'I should call the hadoan,' Arl-an-dor said darkly after El-i-miir had released him. He rose to his feet, but made no further attack on Ilgrin, who seemed a little wobbly on his own.

Ilgrin was a demon as far as the majority of New World were concerned. The insulting term had been propagated by religious zealots throughout the ages, helped along by its frequent use in the Holy Tome. Few people believed in the ancient Scriptures anymore, but silts were still referred to as demons more often than not. With large, bat-like wings and pallid white flesh, Ilgrin easily looked the part of a foreboding villain, but on closer inspection, his large, almond-shaped, purple eyes were filled with kindness and somehow his lack of fingernails or toenails made him seem oddly harmless. But perhaps that was the illusion. With three to four times the strength of a human man, Seteal wasn't certain she'd ever be able to trust him completely. But then, it was unlikely she'd ever trust any man again.

'I'm Ilgrin.' The silt went slowly in, removing his cloak. 'I'm pleased to make your acquaintance.'

'Don't speak, demon,' Arl-an-dor spat.

Unlike the majority of modern Elglair, El-i-miir's parents were deeply religious and actually believed in the old writings.

'You were forsaken to Vish'el'Tei.' Arl-an-dor waved his hands about furiously, his gaze settling on his daughter. 'I know it was uncalled for, but it's done now. Have you no pride? You should've taken your punishment and regained the honour you've lost this entire family.'

'How can you speak of honour?' El-i-miir cringed. 'What kind of parents stand by and watch their children die?'

'What is this worldly philosophy?' Arl-an-dor's face became red. 'I warned Far-a-mael that you were too impressionable to leave the Frozen Lands.'

'Impressionable?' El-i-miir raised her eyebrows. 'I'm not going live my life in accordance with your book of fairy-tales just because you think it's the right thing to do.'

'That's enough.' Seteal spoke softly, but everyone fell silent immediately. The air in the room seemed to thicken as she stepped forward, somehow having managed to draw the attention of everyone with two simple words. 'You must be Arl-an-dor,' Seteal continued, as the elf owl flitted off her arm to inspect the ice-boards underfoot. 'My name is Seteal Eltari.'

'Yes, I . . .' The man trailed off, his expression bewildered by the soft, captivating tone of Seteal's voice. Unlike regular Elglair, she could not manipulate the Ways of others, nor could she see their vibrant auras. Rather, Seteal's own Way seemed to permeate the world around her, changing it to fit her mood.

'I am Gil Arl-an-dor of the Sixth Cleff,' the man attempted to say with more confidence, shaking off the peculiar feeling that confused him so. He was a slender man and Seteal immediately recognised the resemblance he shared with his daughter. 'I demand you explain yourselves,' Arl-an-dor said firmly.

A door across the room creaked open and a small girl, no more than five years old, raced into the room with a big smile on her face. Her expression froze and fell suddenly as her eyes locked upon the demon standing behind Seteal. The girl's mouth fell open and she screamed without restraint.

'An-ii.' El-i-miir raced over to the child and wrapped her arms around her to help stifle the scream. 'It's okay. He won't hurt you.' She stroked her little sister's long black hair, undoubtedly affecting her aura as she did.

Moments later, a youthful-looking woman entered the room, followed by a girl of about twelve. Both of them bore expressions of concern that quickly became ones resembling those seen on the faces of Arl-an-dor and his daughter.

'Mil-i-que,' Arl-an-dor addressed his wife, 'take the girls to their room.'

'No.' Seteal shook her head and watched as all eyes turned to her. 'We will all remain in this room until I'm certain you can be trusted.

'Seteal,' El-i-miir murmured warningly, 'they're my family.'

'Your family were willing to stand by as you were sent to your death,' Seteal said darkly.

'That's not true.' Mil-i-que scowled. 'We did everything we could to prevent it.'

'No, you didn't.' Seteal took a step forward, her face clearly bearing disgust. 'You should have ignored the elders, packed your things, and moved south.'

'To live among outlanders?' Mil-i-que's face twisted in contempt.

Seteal raised her eyebrows and shook her head. 'I'm not here to judge you.' She sighed, although it was against her nature to ignore such things.

'What darkness have you brought upon us?' Arl-an-dor glared at El-i-miir, who lowered her eyes dejectedly.

'We have important matters to discuss.' Seteal decided to move the conversation along a more productive course.

'What could you possibly have to discuss with us?' Arl-an-dor frowned, his eyes once again returning to Ilgrin. 'You don't belong to these lands. None of you.'

'Actually, I do,' Seteal challenged. Whilst it was true that she did not have the white pupils of the Elglair, it was equally as true that her mother had come from the Frozen Lands. 'My mother was Jil-e-an of the Eighth Cleff. Perhaps you've heard of her.'

'A woman famed for her stupidity,' Mil-i-que snarled, 'and if you're truly her half-caste child, all the more shame on you.'

Attempting to keep a handle on her rather impatient temper, Seteal took a deep breath and ignored the ignorance shown by El-i-miir's mother. 'We do not have time to escape the cleff today. Already, it is too light. We need clothes, food, and rest. We'll leave this evening as soon as it's dark enough for us to escape unnoticed.'

'You expect me to allow a demon to remain here in my home?' Arl-an-dor barked incredulously. 'A demon, a half-caste, a forsaken child, and . . . and whatever that thing is?' He frowned at Seeol as he began scratching at the ice with his beak.

'Please, Papa,' El-i-miir begged, indicating toward Ilgrin. 'He's not what you think.'

'I've heard enough.' Ilgrin narrowed his eyes and flared his wings menacingly. His pale white flesh was riddled with ghastly wounds from the time he'd spent in the Dome of the Sixth, which served only to increase his menace. 'Perhaps you're right. Perhaps I am a demon. And when I leave this house, I'm going to shout and scream and bring more attention to this place then you could ever begin to imagine. How do you think the Elglair will respond when they see you've been harbouring a demon?'

'Scary, isn't he?' Seeol whispered through the heavy silence that followed.

Arl-an-dor ignored the bird, instead choosing to stare at Ilgrin with utter hatred until finally his expression shifted. 'I see you've backed me into a corner. You can stay, but I want you gone at dusk. All of you.'

'Arl-an-dor,' Mil-i-que squealed in wide-eyed horror.

Seteal turned to El-i-miir in confusion. 'Did you . . . ?'

'Affiliate him?' El-i-miir finished for her. 'No,' she replied, equally as confused by Arl-an-dor's change of heart as everybody else.

'This is not happening,' Mil-i-que clamped a hand over her stomach.

'You need to trust me,' Arl-an-dor addressed his wife firmly. 'If they leave now, they'll most definitely get caught. And you know what'll happen to El-i-miir and the rest of us if they do.'

'I can't believe what you're saying.' Mil-i-que looked like she was about to cry as she turned and stormed out of the room.

Arl-an-dor raised his finger to the silt. 'You have one day and I'll be watching you every minute.'

'Thank you,' El-i-miir muttered as Ilgrin sank back into the shadows. 'I know you're not comfortable with this. I only hope that one day it will all make sense to you.

'Oh, it makes perfect sense,' the man said darkly. What he meant by that, Seteal couldn't begin to imagine. 'What have you gotten yourself into?' He looked at El-i-miir regretfully. 'In league with the Devil.'

'Far-a-mael has gone mad,' El-i-miir replied sadly. 'He plans on going to war with Old World.'

'That's a good thing.' Arl-an-dor looked at his daughter disbelievingly, his eyes filled with sorrow. 'Where did I go wrong with you?'

'It's not good at all.' Seeol pounced several handswidths forward before stopping to stand on one leg and point a toe at El-i-miir's father. 'You are a naughty man.' He waved his toe back and forth. 'Silts are cuddly and it's mean to hurt people and you are mean to El-i-miish.'

'How cute,' El-i-miir's youngest sister squealed with delight, hurrying across the room to gather up Seeol in her hands. 'Can we keep it?'

'No.' Arl-an-dor stared at the owl suspiciously. 'Put it back down. Now!'

'Not fair.' An-ii pouted, dropped Seeol, and stormed out of the room.

'Take your sister to her room,' Arl-an-dor ordered El-i-miir's remaining sibling. 'Both of you are to remain there until your mother comes for you.'

'Yes, Papa.' The girl looked at El-i-miir regretfully before leaving the room.

'If Far-a-mael starts this war, he will not win,' Seteal said solemnly. 'He'll start something you'll all regret for a very long time.'

'He is our War Elder.' Arl-an-dor shrugged. 'I will follow wherever he leads us.'

'You think that makes you a great and loyal subject don't you?' Seteal shook her head. 'You think it makes you a good man to fight for your people?'

'It does.' Arl-an-dor stood proudly.

'No, it doesn't,' Seteal snapped. 'It makes you a fool.'

'I'm going to take my family to my sister's place,' Arl-an-dor said, ignoring Seteal's comment. 'They're not safe with that thing here.' He pointed at Ilgrin. 'We will return at dusk. By then, you'd best not be here.'

'How do we know you won't report us to the first an'hadoan you come across?' Seteal enquired suspiciously.

'You really have no idea what it's like to be Elglair, do you?' Arl-an-dor scoffed. 'Do you really think I want a bunch of drunken louts tearing up my house, looking for secret hiding places and evidence of betrayal? Of course not. I want you gone and my life to proceed as normal.'

'He's telling the truth,' El-i-miir murmured.

It didn't take long for Arl-an-dor to gather his possessions and herd his family out of the house and into the street. Shortly thereafter, the sound or a horse and carriage pulling away told Seteal that they were once again alone.

'I have no idea of what to do.' She slumped, the fight having left her. 'I need sleep,' she murmured, only to stop suddenly at the expression on El-i-miir's face. 'What is it?'

'There's something . . .' The Elglair woman trailed off to dig around in her pocket. She retrieved a letter and unfolded it. 'High Elder Gez-reil followed me to the border of Vish'el'Tei.' El-i-miir turned sharply. 'He gave me this jacket, but I couldn't understand why.'

'And he's written you a letter?' Seteal replied with curiosity.

'It seems that way,' El-i-miir replied, her eyes tracing the neatly written lines. 'He wants us to come to the Dark Water Inn at Setbrana in Garrishnell. He says he has urgent information.'

'Is that all?' Ilgrin leaned over El-i-miir's shoulder to read the letter. 'Setbrana is a little bit out of our way.'

'What do you think?' El-i-miir turned to Seteal.

'We should go.' Seteal shrugged. 'It's not as though we have any other options, and to be honest, we need all the help we can get.'

'What that say?' Seeol chirped from Ilgrin's shoulder. 'I want to read.'

'I'm afraid that might be a little beyond you.' Ilgrin chuckled.

'We'll head for Garrishnell tonight,' Seteal confirmed, 'but for now, I'd suggest we all get some rest.'

'Yes!' Seeol cried victoriously. 'You will see now. Sleeping in the day time is much betterer. That's the advices that I stand by.'

*

Beneath King Braihon Harundor's mighty palace existed a dark, dank chamber, the majority of which was underground. The only exception to this was the tiny grate at the very top of the wall that occasionally allowed for sunlight to enter. Most of the time, however, such a light source was absent, as the princes made it their routine duty to cover it with mud.

The dungeon smelt of old decay and the walls oozed with an unrecognisable brown substance. Many of them were stained with blood, especially in the places were chains had bound people to the masonry throughout the ages. It'd been rumoured that the chamber had once been used for torture, but had since been redesignated as a holding cell for those who were destined for execution.

This day was better than those that'd preceded it for one very good reason. It had rained during the night. Although that resulted in ankle-deep water throughout the chamber, it also meant that the mud had fallen away from the bared window, allowing sunlight to enter along with a crisp spring breeze. It was the light, however, that brought a smile to Briel Keaco's chapped lips, because in the light he was able to make out his wife's beautiful face.

Briel was a wild man of the open planes and scented fields. He was a creature of the earth, living each day bathed in the glory of being alive. He did not much care for religion or politics, preferring to live a simple, unencumbered life, allowing himself to become bound to none but his darling Fes. It was for that reason he suffered so greatly in the confines of prison.

In like manner, Fes was shackled by her ankle to a large stone pillar. Like a caged animal, Briel had at first fought to tear the pillars down, but, of course, such actions had proven useless. He was a passionate man, but had never been foolish enough to think himself terribly bright. There were many greater minds than his, but even he should've seen the fault in his actions. Because he hadn't, he and his wife and been sentenced to hanging. It was a lenient sentence, considering their crime: that of harbouring a demon.

Briel had made mistakes before, but none so fatal as this. Was it because he'd almost come to see Ilgrin as human? Was it because of his certainty in the creature's harmlessness? Perhaps. Whatever the reason, he'd overlooked a spattering of dried silt blood on the underside of his wagon and like a fool had taken it to be repaired at a wainwright in the most religiously bigoted country in the world.

When the Keacos had returned to make payment and collect their wagon, they were immediately arrested. Being of very little means, Briel was unable to afford a proper lawyer, and as a result, the trial lasted only two hours. Frankly, he was surprised it'd taken that long for the Court of Veret to make a decision. Perhaps it was because of the Jenjen infatuation with keeping up appearances. Maker forbid they reveal themselves as being anything short of law-abiding and righteous. What a farce. Not a soul in the courtroom was under any illusions as to how the case would end.

'Briel?' Fes enquired scratchily, her small hand finding his.

'Ye?' Briel replied, surprised by the gruffness of his own voice. He couldn't help but wonder how long it'd been since he'd had anything to eat or drink. The Keacos were large people and unused to going long without sustenance.

'I be hearin' ye think,' Fes uttered softly. 'Be at peace, me dear husband. We've lived happy lives. Our children be good and married.'

'Ye nah be speakin' that way,' Briel was caught off-guard by the sob that escaped his throat. 'We've nah lived long enough yet.'

'We've got a few weeks ta go.' Fes's tone was melancholy.

'There must be another way.' Briel felt a tear trickle down his cheek, but quickly wiped away the evidence.

'Hold me,' Fes sobbed, resting heavily in his arms.

Briel kissed the top of his wife's head--which, remarkably, despite their living conditions, still smelled sweet. That scent had been intoxicating Briel since their mothers had set them up to dance at his brother's wedding. Briel had been a skinny boy of sixteen at the time and more interested in taming wild horses than dancing with girls. Fes, on the other hand, had wanted to dance rather than tame horses. Briel danced with her and much to his surprise he'd enjoyed it. The pair were married not a year later, something not uncommon for Merry Islanders.

A loud bang caused Briel to jump momentarily before he realised that it was only one of the young princes kicking a ball outside. His cheeky little face blocked out the sun before he began heaping piles of mud up over the grill, giggling all the while. Soon Briel found himself sitting in utter darkness and couldn't help but wonder if that was what death would be like.
CHAPTER TWO

TEARS

El-i-miir cast her eyes over the silt's pallid flesh where he sat on the edge of her bed. The flesh stretched tight over his bony wings was almost translucent in the bright light. His skin was like that of a dead man who'd frozen in the snow. It was white in colour, but for the bluish hue in his cheeks or wherever else a human might be flushed pink with blood. His dark hair boasted a mixture of blacks and bluish purples. Ilgrin's cheekbones were higher than those of a human. His fingers lacked fingernails and they were more slender and elongated than those of an ordinary man. His toes and feet were incomparable to those of a human. Silt bones were slender, flexible and hollow according to a book El-i-miir had once read. The bones within his arms and legs were longer and thinner than those found in humans, but were packed with so much more muscle that any loss in size was more than made up for.

It was at Ilgrin's large, almond-shaped, purple eyes that El-i-miir's gaze completed its travels. She swallowed hard, realising that he too had been inspecting her. His blue lips curled up into a shy smile.

'So are we going to talk about this?' Ilgrin asked. El-i-miir couldn't help but focus on the blue tongue moving around inside of his mouth as he spoke.

'I suppose we'll have to,' she replied distractedly, her veil of dark hair falling across her face as she hung her head in shame. 'I care about you . . . more than I should.'

'I know,' Ilgrin whispered. 'You came back for me.'

'As you did for me.' El-i-miir shuddered at the thought of how close she'd come to drowning in the Dome of the Sixth. She was only alive today due to the combined efforts of Seteal and Ilgrin. 'There will never be a place for us in the world.'

'I know.' Ilgrin shrugged, stretching his wings ever so slightly. 'It'd mean being alone forever.'

'Are we being foolish?' El-i-miir reached out tentatively to touch the warmth of Ilgrin's cheek.

'Probably.' He sighed. 'But I can't imagine being without you.'

'You know . . . you're really beautiful in your own way,' El-i-miir murmured as she sat down beside the demon, only to stare at the wall across the room.

'In my own way?' Ilgrin chuckled.

'It's a compliment,' El-i-miir touched his hand. 'In the books . . .'

'We're monsters,' Ilgrin finished her sentence. 'I know.' He lifted El-i-miir's hand, examining her nails before turning to make eye-contact. The silence was deafening as he leaned steadily toward her. El-i-miir's heart raced, but she didn't resist. When their lips touched a chill crawled steadily along her spine. It only lasted a moment, but the kiss had been a contract.

'I think I might love you,' Ilgrin whispered, pulling away.

'I think I love you, too,' El-i-miir choked through a mixture of hope and anxiety. 'Tell me more about you.'

'There's not much to say.' Ilgrin sighed. 'I was raised on a farm by two loving parents and . . . oh, I see,' he recoiled, having realised what El-i-miir was really asking. 'You want to know if . . .'

'You don't have to tell me.'

'No, I do.' Ilgrin stared miserably at the floor. 'I've done it before . . . before Far-a-mael, I mean. I cannot deny it.'

'Oh.' El-i-miir pulled away, clamped her hands together and placed them in her lap. 'Perhaps I don't want to know after all.'

'I was six years old.' Ilgrin kept his eyes levelled at the floor. 'A tree fell during a storm. It killed my mother. I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't even know what resurrection was. I'm pretty sure I still thought I was human at the time.'

'I'm sorry.' El-i-miir nodded with renewed interest in the story. 'So what happened?'

'I can't remember it very well. I was so young. I remember the tree going down.' Ilgrin's voice caught. 'Mother was dead but I refused to let her go and before I could make sense of what was happening, I'd already brought her back.'

'It'd be hard not to in such circumstances.' El-i-miir shrugged. 'It's not like anyone can think rationally under such pressure, let alone a six-year-old boy.'

'It doesn't matter anymore.' Ilgrin's eyes became wet.

'I remember you told me your family were gone.' El-i-miir clutched his hand reassuringly.

'Yes.' Ilgrin pursed his lips. 'She's dead again. They killed her and my father when they discovered us in Sitnic.' Ilgrin rubbed at his eyes. 'I don't know what I'd have done if I'd had the chance, but by the time I was able to return, they would've been too dead anyway.'

'I'm so sorry.' El-i-miir repeated her earlier sentiments. 'It can't have been easy.'

'I've hardly had the time to think about it,' Ilgrin said. 'I've been in fear for my life so long that I haven't even been able to process it.'

'I'm sorry about that, too,' El-i-miir apologised yet again.

'It's okay.' Ilgrin touched her cheek. 'I don't blame you, El-i-miir. I was taught the same things you were. There's no way you could've known there was a silt like me: someone not entirely evil.'

'Say that again.' El-i-miir smiled.

'What?'

'My name.'

'El-i-miir.' Ilgrin's expression became one of curiosity.

'I like the way it sounds when you say it.' She smiled.

Ilgrin placed a hand on El-i-miir's knee. 'I'm not going anywhere, so I guess you'll be hearing it a lot,' he whispered as they embraced.

*

Despite the frozen consistency of the walls surrounding her, the room was not cold in the slightest. Seteal turned over in the bed and put her fingertips against the wall. It felt cold to the touch, but the temperature travelled no farther than a milliwidth from the wall. El-i-miir had told her that the walls were painted annually with an oil that helped contain the cold.

Seteal bit back on an audible sob and swallowed in an attempt to prevent any further tears. If wasn't working. Her pillow was wet. She swung her legs over the side of the bed intending to get up, but instead gave in to the pain inside. Now everything stopped and the world became still; she really didn't have any other choice but to face her fears.

Giving up against the tightness in her chest, Seteal allowed the tears to cascade down her cheeks as she cried bitterly. Her face was hot and she began to sweat, but once she'd started she couldn't stop. She put a hand to her stomach and gasped for air with renewed misery. How much longer could she hide her shame? A larger woman might've been able to get away with it, but Seteal was skinny at the best of times. She examined her belly through foggy eyes. Was she showing yet? Did she have long before people would notice? How long would it take before the world started sneering at her in disgust? She was a pregnant woman without a husband and with a bastard child on the way. The shame was unbearable. The self-loathing was worse.

Soft laughter floated in from the next room. It was the sound of Ilgrin and El-i-miir courting, which made Seteal all the more bitter at her fate. Had she been willing to stoop so low as to seek out such a vile relationship, not even a demon would be interested in her anymore. Seteal had been used and discarded like a dirty old rag. She would never feel the embrace of love. She'd be alone with her bastard until she met her end.

Seteal rolled over to face the wall, folding the pillow around her head as she went to muffle her screams of frustration. She squeezed away tears and closed her eyes, but felt as though she was being watched. When she opened them she gasped at the discovery of Seeol standing not a handswidth from her nose.

'What're you doing?'

Seeol bobbed his head excitedly. 'You have a baby.'

'How did you know?' Seteal frowned. She hadn't told anyone.

'Because you're pregnant,' the bird responded simply.

'Yes, but . . .' Seteal trailed off as she pushed up to lean on her elbow. 'Oh, never mind. Could you just keep it to yourself, please?'

'I'm don't understand.' Seeol flicked his tail dismissively.

'Just don't tell anyone.'

'Your secret is not safe with me.' Seeol shrugged his wings, a very human gesture he'd picked up some time ago.

Seteal gaped at him before realising that he'd probably confused his words. 'You meant to say that my secret is safe with you, right?'

'That is a yes.' Seeol nodded thoughtfully, before transferring all weight to one leg so that he could give his neck a vigorous scratch.

The room pulsed. Seteal was caught in the knowing. It invaded her being. Arl-an-dor raced along the street followed by a host of gils and an'hidoans.

'Time to go.' El-i-miir burst into the room with wild eyes.

'I know,' Seteal replied, shoving her feet into boots.

'I don't know what it is,' El-i-miir murmured as the colour drained from her face, 'but something terrible is about to happen.'

'Your father contacted the authorities,' Seteal pushed passed El-i-miir and out into the hallway. 'They're making their way up the street now. I thought you said he was telling the truth.'

'He was at the time,' El-i-miir replied defensively. 'He must have changed his mind. I can't know everything.'

'Not that way.' Mil-i-que burst into the house panting. She snatched at Seteal's hand and spun her on the spot. 'Out the back,' she said, urgently stuffing a bag into her hands. 'Go.'

'Why are you helping us?' El-i-miir asked, hurriedly embracing the older woman.

'I won't watch them kill you. Whatever you've gotten yourself into, you don't deserve that.' Mil-i-que sobbed. 'Now go.'

Needing no further encouragement, the women ducked out the back door, followed by Ilgrin, with Seeol clinging to the front of his cloak. 'Keep your faces hidden and lose the silt if you can,' Mil-i-que warned as she closed the door behind them.

Seteal soon found herself in step with Ilgrin behind El-i-miir as she led them through disjointed alleyways and narrow streets. Although it wouldn't be long before nightfall, the sun was still clearly visible and the Sixth Cleff was anything but safe for a gathering such as theirs. Whenever they made any progress, El-i-miir would detect an'hadoans approaching and they'd have to double back.

'Could you carry me?' Seteal turned to Ilgrin as they ducked across an empty street.

'What?' El-i-miir balked.

'You needn't get your knickers in a knot,' Seteal reassured the woman. 'I'm going to try and find a way out of here.'

'Fine,' El-i-miir grumbled. 'I suppose it's for the best.'

'Well?' Seteal slapped Ilgrin's chest. 'Hurry up.'

As the silt picked her up, Seteal burst out of her body and sighed inwardly with relief. Freedom. She moved skyward to peer down upon the rooftops and alleyways below. The others looked about themselves fearfully as they awaited her direction. Seteal focused on her mouth and made it speak. As always, it responded weakly, but effectively.

'I think I can make this work.'

'Oh.' Ilgrin gaped at Seteal's unconscious face. 'That's disturbing.'

'You'll get used to it,' El-i-miir replied.

'They're everywhere.' Seteal gaped at the swarms of an'hadoans weaving throughout the area. 'If you do exactly as I say, when I say it, we'll be fine.'

After taking another moment to assess the situation, Seteal started giving orders as to how they should proceed. A moment later, she watched as the others dashed down alleyways whilst empty, and around houses as the tenants turned away.

'You're almost there,' she murmured. Turn right, she attempted to say, but her lips remained sealed.

'Seteal,' El-i-miir urged by her ear. 'What now?'

Focusing on her lips and tongue, Seteal tried to speak and failed yet again. A gathering of an'hadoans would soon turn the corner behind the others. If she couldn't make herself speak they would most certainly get caught.

'Turn right.' At last the words squeezed their way along the thread between herself and her body.

Flooded with relief, Seteal watched Ilgrin and El-i-miir hurry around the side of the building seconds before the an'hadoans came around the corner. She caught herself wondering what had happened to the connection, but as she continued giving directions thereafter everything went on working as it should. 'You see the valley wall?'

'What about it?' El-i-miir's face scrunched up in consternation.

'You've got about three minutes to reach it without being seen,' Seteal urged. 'Run.'

'I couldn't,' El-i-miir said through gritted teeth.

'You have--' Seteal failed to produce the final word, once again feeling the strange detachment from her body.

'Come on,' Ilgrin threw Seteal over his shoulder and grabbed El-i-miir's hand to sprint across the open plane.

Realising that her task was complete and she was only serving as a burden in slowing the others down, Seteal snatched at the strand of spirit attaching herself to her body but found that she couldn't get a proper hold of it. Terrified by the detachment, she swooped over the body atop Ilgrin's shoulder, begging it to accept her back, but it wouldn't. She screamed inwardly for it to let her in and yet her body did not respond in the slightest.

Once Ilgrin and El-i-miir reached the side of the basin, they found the stairway that Seteal had spotted earlier and rested her at the base. 'You enjoy your free ride?' Ilgrin panted.

Seteal snatched at the canvas and felt feverishly along its surface until she found her Way. She found the strand she'd been looking for just as it attempted to weave itself back into reality without her. Seteal snatched it up before it could escape and spiralled down its length to plunge back into her body.

'Yes, thank you,' she replied to Ilgrin without giving further explanation.

'It would've been easier if you'd carry your own weight,' the silt grumbled.

'Are you okay?' El-i-miir narrowed her eyes.

'I'm fine.' Seteal rose to her feet and dusted off her dress. 'It doesn't look like you were fast enough,' she said, putting a hand against her brow so that she could gaze across the plane where a mass of an'hadoans had taken up chase.

'That's impossible,' Ilgrin moaned. 'Nobody saw us. I was certain of it.'

'You go.' Seeol puffed out his feathers and flicked his wings at the others. 'I'll take care of this.' The bird narrowed his eyes and marched several handswidths across the ice to face their pursuers.

'I'll come back,' Ilgrin assured Seteal as he tore off his cloak, wrapped El-i-miir in his arms and leapt into the sky.

'I'm getting really sick of you doing that,' Seteal barked after the pair. 'Torrid,' she cursed, turning to run up the stairs.

'Stop following us,' Seeol's feeble challenge floated up as the an'hadoans came within a few strides of the basin wall. Seteal shook her head, already panting as she took the steps two at a time. Moments later the elf owl zipped through the air and landed unsteadily on her shoulder. 'They didn't listen.'

'Stop,' a man shouted. Seteal didn't stop. 'I said stop.' The an'hadoan leapt at Seteal's foot but tripped and fell backward into the upcoming throng of his comrades.

Daring a glance into the sky to search for Ilgrin proved to be a mistake as Seteal's toe clipped the next stair and she fell to hands and knees. Expecting a rather unpleasant fate to befall her, she spun around to find her attackers were falling all over themselves in their attempt to get up the stairs. 'What in Maker's name,' Seteal murmured as she watched a small number of men beginning to topple from the sides of the stairway and scream to their deaths as the ones at the back continued to push forward.

'These is scary men.' Seeol's eyes widened in dismay at the crowd of sinister faces. 'They're wanting to do hurting things to me.' It was typical of Seeol that his linguistics should suffer when he was scared. 'They're mean.'

Unable to believe her eyes at the lack of discipline before her, Seteal seized the opportunity to continue her journey up the stairs. Oddly enough, as soon as she did so the mayhem behind her came under control and the men continued their pursuit as professionally as they'd done before.

Seteal thrust her leg up toward the next step, but her foot never made contact. Instead, she was snatched into the sky as Ilgrin passed her from his feet up into his arms.

'About time,' Seteal gasped. The silt beat his great wings and the Elglair an'hadoans soon became a spec in the distance.

'I'm sorry,' Ilgrin replied. 'I had to make sure El-i-miir was far enough away that they wouldn't come after her.'

At first, Seteal tried not to look at the ground. It was disconcerting seeing her feet dangling a hundred strides above the earth, but she soon came to appreciate the beauty of the view. Ordinarily, she'd only be able to see such a sight had she left her body behind, but there was something nice about feeling the wind on her face.

Beneath her feet, the massive expanse of ice became less pure, interrupted by rocks, dirt and patches of vegetation. Once the scenery changed, Ilgrin began to descend, and soon enough Seteal spotted El-i-miir waiting nervously beneath a tree.

'My Maker, I was getting tired of ice.' Seteal smiled as she and Ilgrin came to a landing. She headed over to the tree and touched one of its small brown leaves. It was dead, but still a sign of life. El-i-miir strode away from the others and stared out toward the north, her hair blowing in the gentle breeze. Ilgrin raised his eyebrows expectantly at Seteal.

'She's not my responsibility.' She shrugged nonchalantly. 'Her people are nuts. She should be glad to be shot of them.'

'You're not the most sensitive person, are you?' Ilgrin half-smiled, shaking his head as he made his way over to El-i-miir.

'Whatever,' Seteal grumbled, more concerned with the elf owl clambering out of her bag than anything else. 'That was quite a spectacle back there, wasn't it?'

'Yes.' Seeol bobbed his head. 'I was very scared.'

'You wouldn't know why those men behaved so strangely, would you?'

'I was very scared.' The owl repeated himself, probably not having understood the question.

After a short while, the other two re-joined them, El-i-miir looking a little red around the eyes but otherwise none the worse for wear. 'Let's go,' she said softly. 'There's a road to the south that bypasses Jenjol and leads to Garrishnell. We can travel that way if you occasionally project yourself to check for oncoming travellers.'

'Seeol can do that,' Seteal said impatiently as the group wove their way south. 'It'll be good for him to have something to do.'

'Do you think it wise to trust a bird with so much responsibility?' Ilgrin balked. 'Our lives depend on us not being discovered.'

'He'll do fine,' Seteal stated firmly. She had no intention of leaving her body while ever she was uncertain of her capacity to get back inside. As much as she loved being free, she still remembered Far-a-mael's warnings that the soul could not exist without the body and she was well aware of the consequences of being away from it for too long. Fortunately, she was rescued from having to give further explanation by a yelp of surprise from Ilgrin as he tripped over a rock.

'Clumsy.' El-i-miir giggled as Ilgrin leapt about clutching his toe.

'I've never done that before.' He was visibly shaken.

'You've never tripped over?' El-i-miir said incredulously. 'Everybody trips over.'

'Humans trip over.' Ilgrin shook his head. 'I never have.'

'It's okay, Ilgrin, you needn't be embarrassed,' Seteal reassured him with a wink and a condescending smile.

'I'm not embarrassed. It's just . . . oh, never mind,' he shook his head irritably. 'Who cares anyway?'

'Are the men coming for us?' Seeol asked worriedly.

'No.' Seteal shook her head. 'We're safe now.'

'Yay!' The owl flittered through the air victoriously.

With the sun almost set, it was decided that they should head south to the road where they would camp for the night. They would then move east to Garrishnell, as Gez-reil had directed.

CHAPTER THREE

THE CURSE

While he did not enjoy having his values diminished to the point of common thievery, Ilgrin had never been one to suffer hunger very patiently. He closed his eyes and took another bite out of the raspberry and apple pie that El-i-miir had stolen from a shop in the town they'd passed earlier. Using her powers for evil seemed to come a little too easily, but Ilgrin wasn't about to let that stop him from enjoying the spoils of her labour.

The odd group of travellers had been on foot for a number of days and if Ilgrin had to guess, they were somewhere in the wilderness to the west of Setbrana. The road had become little more than an overgrown dirt track with scrub encroaching on either side. The temperature was cold, but not at all comparable with that of the Frozen Lands.

'I need to rest,' Seteal announced as they entered a clearing in which she plopped down atop a fallen tree, a hand resting on her belly. Perhaps she had a stitch. El-i-miir headed to the opposite side of the clearing. It was becoming increasingly evident that she was losing patience with Seteal's abrasiveness.

Ilgrin glanced at Seteal to find her staring fixatedly at the ground. He dared not speak to her, instead deciding to follow after El-i-miir.

'Are you all right?' he called once he was within earshot.

'I'm fine,' El-i-miir grumbled.

'You seem a little upset,' Ilgrin pushed.

'Oh, you know.' She shrugged. 'It's everything, I suppose: knowing I can never go home, this thing between you and I, and spending so many hours with that.' She nodded across the field at a rather sullen looking Seteal.

'I don't see why you insist on keeping her around.' Ilgrin frowned. 'She's horrible at the best of times.'

'You mustn't blame her for the way she treated you before,' El-i-miir reminded him sternly. 'I already explained that she was under Far-a-mael's influence.'

'Well, if you ask me, she doesn't seem that much different now she's free.' Ilgrin frowned.

'At least she doesn't want to kill you anymore.' El-i-miir brushed the hair out of her face. 'Besides, you have to give her some time to adjust. Seteal doesn't share my abilities and has to take it on good faith that you're any different to what she was taught. Frankly, I'm surprised at the progress she's made.'

'I saved her life,' Ilgrin snapped. 'Twice.'

'It doesn't matter,' El-i-miir said in astonishment. 'You don't know what it's like.'

'Yes, I do!' Ilgrin said defensively. 'I was raised by humans, just like you. Believe it or not, they preached the same nonsense to me as they did to you: silts are all evil, silts are descendants of Sa'Tan, silts eat small children. I've heard it all. I'm supposedly only any different because of the way my parents raised me.'

'All right, all right.' El-i-miir raised her hands. 'At least give her some time, if for no other reason than because of what she's been through. You can't expect her to just snap out of it.'

'I don't.' Ilgrin lowered his voice. 'I just don't see why she needs to be our responsibility.'

'Don't you?' El-i-miir furrowed her brow. 'Really?'

'She's horrible,' Ilgrin reiterated.

'I did this to her,' El-i-miir hissed.

'No.' Ilgrin put a hand on her shoulder. 'Far-a-mael did.'

'Oh, cut it out, Ilgrin.' El-i-miir turned away. 'I'd be a coward and a liar if I denied my part in it. I knew enough of what he was up to to have known better.'

'You can't blame yourself.' Ilgrin put a hand on El-i-miir's shoulder and turned her around. 'All you've ever known is the ways of the Elglair. You should be proud you managed to see through it all. From what I've heard, it's not something Elglair often do.'

El-i-miir sighed. 'Why are you so kind to me?'

'Because you're a good person,' Ilgrin reassured her. 'You were open-minded enough to believe in me and that's something most Elglair can't do regardless of their abilities.'

'All the same,' El-i-miir replied after a moment of thought, 'I think I like her.' She gazed across the field at Seteal, slumped over with her chin on her knees. 'There's something so pathetic about her and yet . . . she's so tragic and at the same time so strong. She's rather paradoxical, don't you think?'

'I guess.' Ilgrin shrugged, far more interested in the woman in front of him than the one across the field.

'Besides,' El-i-miir said, 'High Elder Gez-reil asked me to bring Seteal if I could manage it, so I'm going to do just that.'

'I suppose she's all right.' Ilgrin glanced at Seteal. 'Perhaps if she wasn't so alone, she might feel a little better.'

'What do you mean?' El-i-miir frowned.

'I don't know.' Ilgrin shrugged. 'Perhaps we should find her a man.'

'You're not serious?' El-i-miir blushed. 'Seteal isn't interested in men.'

'You mean . . .'

'Of course.' El-i-miir chuckled. 'We'd be wiser to keep our eyes out for the opposite.'

'You really are a good person, you know.' Ilgrin stepped forward after a long pause and slowly lowered his lips to El-i-miir's.

'Am I?' the woman replied softly before she leaned in to the kiss.

'Ouch.' Ilgrin's head snapped back and he clamped a hand over the side of his head.

'What is it?' El-i-miir asked.

'It's Seeol.' Ilgrin glared after the owl as he fluttered away. 'He just bit me.'

*

The sun was warm against her flesh and Seteal had to shield her eyes as she looked up into the sky. The clouds swarmed a little faster than usual--a lot faster, actually. Soon they zipped about at unnatural speeds. Her companions disappeared from their place across the clearing and the seasons cycled by in reverse. Seteal was snatched away into a distant time and place.

A small boy screamed hysterically and flared his wings as he hovered over his mother's corpse in the pouring rain. The child's father tried to wrestle him away, but even at the tender age of six, Ilgrin's strength was unsurpassable. The silt thrust his father into the night and his hands created a vacuum of darkness above his mother's still form. The woman screamed as her lungs were filled with air and the putrid darkness spewed into the night.

Seteal followed the whisp as it plunged south. A portion of it tore away and disappeared from site. Seteal trailed after the demonic creation, screaming with horror upon realising its intention.

The piteously small town of Elmsville rippled into existence. 'No!' Seteal screamed. 'Please, no!'

The whisp sank through the ceiling of a modest home as an Elglair woman made her way along the hallway to wish her daughter goodnight. It slithered along the ceiling, insidious and brimming with malice. It fused with Jil-e-an's soul and crushed it.

Hazel eyes burst open only to be blinded by tears and light. The bright sun shone through a canopy alive with birds singing and flittering about their day. The clearing was filled with the eerie chirping of crickets and the hushed voices of Ilgrin and El-i-miir across its length. The knowing departed Seteal, leaving her more greatly burdened than she'd been before.

Grass crunched beneath her feet as she ran across the field. The wind whipped at her face. She couldn't hear. She couldn't think. Blood rushed in her ears. Seteal opened her mouth and screamed, red-faced and consumed by rage. She slammed bodily into Ilgrin, only to bounce off gasping as if she'd hit a solid wall. She screamed again and beat her fists against his chest.

'I hate you.' She collapsed at his feet, sobbing bitterly. 'I hate you all. I hate you!'

'What've I done now?' Ilgrin backed up, looking from Seteal to El-i-miir in wide-eyed astonishment.

'You killed her, you bastard!' Seteal cried. 'You killed my mother!'

'I did no such thing,' Ilgrin said defensively.

'What the torrid is the matter with you?' El-i-miir snatched at Seteal's arm, only to be battered away as she climbed to her feet.

'You killed her.' Seteal pointed at the silt as she slowly backed away. 'I will never forgive you. Never! You are evil and selfish. I hope Far-a-mael wipes out every last one of you.'

'I don't know what you're talking about!' Ilgrin shouted, having lost all patience.

'Let me refresh your memory.' Seteal gritted her teeth. 'It was a stormy night. Your mother was killed.'

'Who told you . . . ?' The silt trailed off, his eyes filling with understanding.

'There was a whisp.' Seteal pursed her lips bitterly. 'I hope you enjoyed having your mother--' Her throat closed, making her sound like a hysterical child. '--because I never knew mine.'

'I'm so sorry.' Ilgrin's face fell as Seteal began to march away, before turning back to face him again.

'I believed you.' She thrust out her arms, astonished by her own stupidity. 'I actually believed you were different. Well, haven't you made a fool out of me?' The silt began to reply, but Seteal ignored him and continued on her way.

'They was kissing.' Seeol's toes bit into Seteal's arm as he landed with a flick of his tail. 'They can't do that.'

'Oh, go away.' Seteal shook her arm until the owl fell into the leaf litter. 'What do you care?'

'I found her first,' Seeol replied as he hopped along beside Seteal. 'Outside the cabin in the woods. I found her. She is mostly mine.'

'You're speaking nonsense,' Seteal grumbled as she changed course abruptly, pacing with her mind elsewhere. 'How can she possibly be yours? You're just a silly little bird.'

Choosing to engage no further in conversation, Seeol disappeared into the treetops. Seteal was relieved. She needed time alone with her thoughts if she was to find any way of reconciling whether or not she could continue along with the silt. In the end, she decided she would, mostly because she had nowhere else to go, but also because she felt like this Gez-reil fellow might know something about Far-a-mael--a weakness, perhaps.

That night, the campfire was a solemn place. No one spoke. Not even Seeol--ordinarily rather chatty--seemed willing to break the silence. It began to rain and then pour in torrents. The group was forced to keep moving through the dark. Three hours later, the situation had not been alleviated. The rain continued to fall and Seteal noticed it rising steadily until eventually she found herself striding through ankle-deep water.

Seeol clung to the front of Seteal's dress, his feathers having become waterlogged and his appearance matching that of a drowned rat. Having caught Seteal looking at him, Seeol called out to her, but unable to hear him over the noise, she chose to ignore him and focus her efforts on putting one foot in front of the other. Oddly enough, the downpour doubled its strength thereafter and the wind became united in its effort to drown them.

'Maker, I miss home,' Seteal muttered and although the words had been inaudible even to her, they somewhat remarkably didn't go unheard.

'Me, too,' Seeol replied after scrambling up to her ear. 'I slept in one tree that swished in breezes and made me happy.'

'I remember a tree similar to yours,' Seteal replied with a grim smile, 'except mine was in the centre of town and I used to sit beneath it.'

'Maybe some one day we can go back homely.' Seeol rubbed his beak against Seteal's shoulder as the rain slowed to a drizzle. 'I would be happy.'

'Me, too,' Seteal replied, once again able to hear her own voice.

*

Despite the cold weather, the sun beat down unforgivingly and El-i-miir's ordinarily pale skin soon turned pink and started to burn. A glance at Ilgrin told her that he was suffering equally, the white flesh of his arms having become rather blue. She almost wished for the return of yesterday's bad weather, even if only for the cloud-cover.

'I'm going to beg your high elder to buy us horses,' Ilgrin grumbled under his breath as he trudged along beside El-i-miir. He had to be feeling the endless walking more than the others, his small feet and three toes not having been designed for long treks. El-i-miir admired Ilgrin's resilience. He could've more easily flown the distance to Setbrana and met the rest of them there. El-i-miir paused, struck by an idea.

'Why don't you fly to the city?' El-i-miir turned to Ilgrin. 'Take one of us with you and fly back for the other.'

'I thought about that.' Ilgrin kept his voice little above a whisper. 'But I doubt she'll let me anywhere near her.' He nodded at Seteal's back as she walked farther ahead of them up the road.

'I guess,' El-i-miir replied dejectedly as she reached for Ilgrin's hand and squeezed it. 'I hate the way he stares like that.'

'Who?'

'Seeol.' El-i-miir frowned at the bird atop Seteal's shoulder, watching them with unwavering, piercing golden eyes.

'He's a funny little critter.' Ilgrin shrugged.

'I don't like him,' El-i-miir grumbled. 'I never have, really. It was Seteal's idea to smuggle him along in the first place.'

'Oh, he's all right.' Ilgrin chuckled, struggling out of his shirt and putting it over his head to prevent it burning. In doing so, he revealed an eyeful of lean muscle that sent El-i-miir's heart racing. 'He thinks he's like us.'

Seeol switched around to face the direction in which they were travelling, before ruffling out his feathers and flicking his tail irritably. El-i-miir then remembered his extraordinary hearing and realised that he'd probably been listening. Still, it was doubtful whether he had understood much of what was said. He was only an elf owl, after all.

A piercing howl echoed through the woods and momentarily stunned the surrounding birdlife into silence. 'What was that?' El-i-miir cringed at the foreign sound. Ilgrin and Seteal exchanged fearful glances.

'Wolves.' Seteal shook her head disbelievingly.

'I read about those once.' El-i-miir squinted as she tried to recall the childhood memory. 'Aren't they just dogs?'

'Not quite.' Ilgrin swallowed nervously as another howl erupted about their surroundings. The sound had been much closer this time, but it was hard to determine from which direction it'd come.

'They wouldn't be hunting by day, would they?' Seteal shook her head disbelievingly.

'Is that unusual?' El-i-miir swallowed nervously at her first glimpse of yellow eyes peering through the scrub.

'Very.' Ilgrin clutched her hand. 'Let's just keep moving,' he urged, ushering Seteal forward.

Soon enough, heavy footfall padded through the surrounding trees on either side. 'Are they surrounding us?' El-i-miir's eyes widened in horror.

'It wouldn't surprise me,' Seteal replied nervously. 'They're pack animals.'

'I don't know how many there are,' Ilgrin whispered to the others. 'I'm not sure I can take all of them. I'll have to try something else, but it won't be easy. Wait here.' He launched himself into the sky.

'Coward,' Seteal hissed furiously.

A long, low growl sounded behind one of the bushes. The wolves had noticed the decrease in number and recognised their prey had become more vulnerable. One by one, the grizzled creatures began emerging from the woods snarling and snapping. The largest animal leapt at El-i-miir, its jaws wide open. She squeezed her eyes shut and the wind was knocked out of her as the ground disappeared.

'Ilgrin!' El-i-miir gasped as the silt's wings beat the air and his face contorted as he struggled to gain distance from the ground. Both women dangled precariously, the silt having wrapped his iron-like grip around their forearms. El-i-miir's eyes met Seteal's and she imagined that they were sharing very similar thoughts. Ilgrin was carrying both of them. Such strength was a grim reminder of the company they were keeping.

The muscles in El-i-miir's arm screamed as Ilgrin jolted, occasionally dipping and losing control as the wolves pursued from below. 'I can't keep this up.' He clenched his teeth and the veins bulged in his neck. His face was blue with strain and his flight was becoming increasingly erratic.

'Don't you dare let go!' Seteal shouted, her face a picture of panic. She twisted her hand so that she, too, was able to get a grip on Ilgrin's forearm. A moment later, the ground spiralled up at them. Twenty strides from the ground, the silt regained enough control to prevent their impending deaths, but not so much as to regain any altitude.

Burning pain shot through the leg that hit the ground first, but El-i-miir had little time to focus on the sensation as a moment later she was rolling head over heels along the earth. She opened her mouth to scream, which was a mistake as instead it was filled with mud. When she came to a stop, El-i-miir opened her eyes to find a wolf standing over her, snarling and drooling. She screamed as the animal bared its fangs, but a moment later she was screaming for another reason entirely.

Ilgrin leapt over the creature and lifted it into the air with his bare hands. The wolf snarled and squirmed, but in competition with a demon, its strength was negligible. Ilgrin snapped its neck and dropped the corpse.

A second wolf leapt for Ilgrin's throat as he raced toward it. Another of the animals snapped at Seteal's heels as she attempted to climb a tree. El-i-miir possessed the animal and turned it against its kin. She spotted another and did the same. How many could she simultaneously affiliate? El-i-miir didn't know. She'd never been able to test the limits of her abilities.

Five snarling animals circled Ilgrin as even more poured toward Seteal. El-i-miir looked back and forth at her companions, unsure of who she should protect with the wolves under her control. As one, the wolves renewed their attack.

Ilgrin snatched at the first one and used it as a club to beat off the others before breaking its back over his knee. Two others leapt at him. One he strangled, the other he grasped with elongated toes to throw fifteen strides into the air. The animal landed with a heavy thud and failed to move thereafter.

Clearly Ilgrin could take care of himself. El-i-miir bared her fangs and snarled. She felt her four sets of paws tearing across the earth as the wolves attacked those perusing Seteal. El-i-miir leapt, closing her jaws tight around the neck of her kin. At the same time, her other body leapt, sinking its fangs into the leg of another. The others fought back, but couldn't compete with those under her control. As intelligent as they might've been, they couldn't compete with the fangs of their kin coupled with the mind of a human.

The various El-i-miirs prowled about but she was content that the others were all dead. She let out a soft whine from two of her mouths and laid down subordinately.

'We need weapons,' Ilgrin said, gazing at the bright red blood covering his clothes before more closely analysing the puncture wounds on his arm from which his own blood trickled.

'I think I'll keep these two for a while,' El-i-miir spoke through her human mouth while unable to avoid simultaneously growling through the mouths of her wolves. One of them had a slight limp, but had otherwise escaped unscathed.

'Are you sure you can handle them?' Seteal asked worriedly.

'I've possessed more wilful creatures than these in my time.' El-i-miir raised her eyebrows in irritation at Seteal doubting her, but after having noticed the turmoil taking place in her aura she found herself unable to maintain ill-feelings.

El-i-miir jolted and turned again to re-examine Seteal's aura. There was something different about it, as though there was a smaller aura beneath the main one. El-i-miir couldn't remember having seen anything like it. Still, there were more pressing matters that demanded her attention.

*

Despite the cold, when they came across a small stream, Ilgrin refused to pass up the opportunity to wash himself clean of wolf blood. He clambered over slippery rocks, using his wings to maintain balance, before pulling them tight and diving into the freezing water. The chill was motivation enough to complete his task at a harried pace.

'We should camp here for the night,' Ilgrin implored the others as he made his way back to the riverbank. The sun sat lazily on the horizon and he failed see the sense in passing up an opportunity to sleep by such a ready supply of water.

'I'll gather some firewood,' Seteal said. Although she acknowledged his suggestion, she'd refused to look him in the eye.

By the time the fire was properly burning, the shadows were long and the night was fast approaching. Ilgrin hung his shirt and pants over a branch close to the fire in the hopes that they'd be dry by morning and wrapped himself in his cloak to maintain decency.

The group sat about the fire with stomachs rumbling while Seeol flittered about catching and eating whatever insects were unfortunate enough to catch his eye. Ilgrin watched in curiosity as El-i-miir turned to her wolves with a penetrating stare before they both scampered off into the night. When they returned, each held a hare in their jaws. Ilgrin took it upon himself to perform the less-than-glamorous duty of skinning and gutting the animals, before cooking them over the fire and doling out the meat.

Once fed, El-i-miir again sent the wolves into the woods. 'They won't be returning this time.'

'Why?' Seteal asked as she lay down. 'I'd have felt a lot safer with them guarding over us.'

'I can't affiliate in my sleep,' El-i-miir stated as though it should have been obvious. Her tone reminded Ilgrin that she was very much unused to spending time in the company of anyone but for other Elglair.

Silence prevailed for a good while thereafter, during which Seteal stared unnervingly at Ilgrin's toes.

'Can I help you?'

'How am I going to forgive you?' Seteal looked him in the eye.

'Seteal,' El-i-miir reprimanded.

'No, it's okay.' Ilgrin put a hand on El-i-miir's knee. 'Let her speak.'

'I'm not trying to be argumentative,' Seteal said. 'I'm just asking . . . how?'

'I'm not asking you to forgive me,' Ilgrin stated, 'and perhaps you never will. But I want you to know that I am truly, deeply sorry for what happened to your mother.'

'I know you are.' Seteal exhaled slowly. 'I know you never meant to hurt anyone.'

'It means a lot to hear you say that.' Ilgrin swallowed loudly.

'But I can't forgive you.' Seteal's voice became distorted by emotion.

'I understand.' Ilgrin lowered his eyes.

'Damn it.' Seteal's eyes were rimmed with tears. 'Why do you have to be so nice? You're making me like you when I so badly want to hate you. It's your fault my mother is dead.'

Ilgrin said nothing further and the three sat in silence. 'I'm going to sleep,' he muttered after half an hour of staring at his hands. He ascended the nearest tree and found a thick branch on which to perch. He squatted in an upright position and pulled his cloak tight.

Ilgrin had never slept well in the human fashion. His parents had provided him with a bed and he'd tried to sleep the way they'd expected, but his wings got in the way and he couldn't make himself comfortable. In the end, he'd taken to perching on the wooden frame.

'Goodnight,' he called down, but only El-i-miir replied in like manner.

Ilgrin slept well until a loud crack woke him before sunrise. The branch broke beneath him and having been caught off-guard, Ilgrin failed to open his wings in time. He hit the ground with a thud. Seteal and El-i-miir were startled by the sound and stared anxiously about themselves.

'Ilgrin! Behind you!' El-i-miir shouted in alarm. He dove out of the way as the entire tree fell forward. It struck the earth and slid into the stream.

'What is going on?' Ilgrin mumbled to himself.

'I don't know.' El-i-miir got to her feet to examine the tree base. 'It looks rotten.'

'Termites?' Seteal made her way over.

'What are the chances of that?' Ilgrin shook his head in disbelief, his eyes landing on Seeol watching from a neighbouring tree. The bird tilted his head this way and that, seemingly uncertain of what'd happened.

'We should keep moving,' Ilgrin gathered his clothes and got dressed as modestly as the circumstances would allow for. After drinking their fill, the group made their way back to the weed-strewn path. Everything that could've possibly gone wrong had done so.

Ilgrin was not at all a superstitious man, but even he was beginning to wonder if they'd been cursed.

Deuteronomy 7

15. And the Lord will take away from thee all sickness and put none of the darkness of Old World, which thou knowest, upon thee, but will lay it upon those who hate thee. And many will hate thee.

16. And thou shalt consume all the people which the Lord thy Maker shall deliver thee: thine eye shall have no pity upon them.

Scriptures of the Holy Tome

CHAPTER FOUR

THE HIGH ELDER

By the time the ancient, dilapidated walls of Setbrana appeared in the distance, the travellers were tired and sodden. Seteal had twisted her ankle to such a point that she was forced to walk with a limp. The day after Ilgrin's near brush with death, fate had thrown them yet another burden. While they slept, the campfire had gotten so out of control that it quickly surrounded and almost killed them. As silly as it sounded, it was beginning to seem to Seteal as though the Ways themselves had turned against her. Seeol was the only exception, thus far having gone unscathed.

'We should wait awhile.' Seteal eyed the ancient wall with uncertainty. 'They may have watchtowers. We'll continue after dark.'

Having arrived so late in the day, the travellers didn't need to wait long for night to creep in with a fog so thick that even Seeol was unable to make out the city beyond.

'Let's go,' Seteal said. Ilgrin threw his cloak over his wings and secured it as best he could. Likewise, El-i-miir raised her hood, thinking it better not to alert the locals to the presence of Elglair. Seteal took the lead, limping toward the black-bricked city.

It took until she was within ten strides of the wall before Seteal was able to make out its looming presence. The place seemed so entirely foreboding that she found it difficult to believe a man such as her father could've come from there. The path ended abruptly at a pair of black polished gates. Beside the gates was a much smaller door and it was to this one that Seteal turned her attention.

'Stay back,' she hissed at the others, who folded into the shadows at her command.

Taking a deep breath, Seteal reached out and tapped on the door. She waited a moment and knocked again, but no one seemed to be on the other side. She reached for the handle and wriggled it a few times, but as she'd expected, it was locked. Just as Seteal was about to turn away, a window slid open at the top of the door and a pair of suspicious eyes stared out from within.

'What?'

'We're travellers,' Seteal said softly. 'We seek entry for lodging.'

The window slid shut and the door creaked open about a half handswidth. Seteal prodded the door with one finger and cringed at the echoing screech of the rusted hinges. Beyond the doorway was a small passage through the wall and out into the city proper. There were no signs of life, not even of the stranger who'd let them in.

'I don't like this,' Ilgrin whispered as he and El-i-miir followed Seteal into the gloom.

'This is dangerous,' Seeol intoned from his place in the dirt at their feet. He glanced at the gatekeeper's chair with suspicion.

'What is that?' El-i-miir enquired at the distinct rumble of an irritated cat echoing along the tunnel.

'That's a . . .' Seteal trailed off, her eyes widening in horror. 'Seeol!' she cried, spinning around as the black feline pounced.

In that frozen moment, several things happened in quick succession. Seteal put too much weight on her injured foot, stumbled against the wall, and toppled into the gatekeeper's chair. With her weight distributed unevenly, the chair tilted forward and one of the legs pressed down into a loose paver. The paver broke and a shard sailed through the air just as the cat's jaws were about to close around Seeol's miniscule form. The shard cracked against the side of the animal's head, either knocking it out or killing it. Seteal put a hand to her mouth in disbelief.

'That's . . . not possible,' Ilgrin murmured.

'Is mean.' Seeol fluttered onto Seteal's arm and dug in his toes. 'I nearly got eatted.'

'Somehow, I don't think so.' Seteal bit her lip, suspecting that the cat's fate was in accordance to something more than coincidence. 'Let's just find the inn. What was it called?'

'The Dark Water Inn,' El-i-miir replied, squinting at the crumpled bit of paper. 'I think it's this way,' she whispered, analysing thin air where she was undoubtedly reading the Ways.

As she followed El-i-miir through the city square, Seteal made a point of memorising her surroundings in case of getting separated. The buildings came in varieties of black and grey. All of them were run down or dilapidated. Not a single soul moved about the cobblestone streets despite the evening being young.

'Where is everyone?' Seteal mused aloud.

'Perhaps our luck has changed,' Ilgrin murmured hopefully.

'This place is horrid,' Seeol intoned. 'Ugly. Bad place. We should fly away quickly.'

'It's ok, Seeol,' Seteal reassured the animal even as her own feelings of anxiety increased.

A strong breeze tore through the square and Ilgrin's cloak fluttered open for only a second before he was able to yank it back into place. A door slammed across the street and a piercing scream tore through the night. The scream was a child's and it was repeated over and over again. A man shouted something indistinct.

'We have to get out of here,' Ilgrin hissed at Seteal as they followed El-i-miir down an alley. 'Is it much farther?' he addressed El-i-miir.

'I'm not sure,' she replied. 'Just hurry.' Dogs barking echoed though the square and bounced around the ally. El-i-miir picked up her pace to a run. 'Down here.' She turned abruptly.

A window swung open above, hitting a vase that'd been balanced precariously on the ledge outside. The vase fell and shattered atop El-i-miir's head. She hit the ground and didn't get back up. 'El-i-miir,' Ilgrin gasped, releasing his cloak and gathering her into his arms.

'Demon!' a woman wailed from the window above, a cigarette flying from her lips and singeing Seteal's arm. 'That's a demon!' she cried out a second time before slamming the window so hard that the glass shattered.

'Torrid.' Ilgrin turned to Seteal, his large purple eyes wide with fear. 'What now?'

'I don't know.' Seteal raised her voice as the barking grew louder. 'Come on.' She sprinted along the alley in the same direction in which El-i-miir had been leading them. Ilgrin raced along beside her, while Seeol flittered from windowsill to windowsill. As he did, items started falling mysteriously at the barest hint of a breeze or the smallest bump in the night.

A rake hit the ground not far from Seteal's bad foot. Ilgrin got caught in a mass of clothing when the line unexpectedly snapped. Vases and pot plants rained down around them to shatter and explode as projectiles of soil and shards of ceramics.

Seteal cast a glance at Ilgrin as he clung to El-i-miir's unconscious form. Their eyes connected briefly, his reflecting the same fear that undoubtedly showed in hers. The Ways had turned against them, but together they ran, united in saving someone they loved. Then Seteal realised the truth--no matter how unusual the timing might've been. For a long time she'd been consumed by hatred and prejudice. She'd missed what was right in front of her. El-i-miir's head bounced about in Ilgrin's arms, blood trickling from her scalp. A lump of anxiety formed in Seteal's chest at the thought that the woman might already be dead.

'Ilgrin, wait,' Seteal grabbed the silt's arm and they came to an abrupt stop.

Ahead of them, a large black dog growled menacingly. Ilgrin took a step toward it, waiting for the inevitability of an attack. A glance back the way they'd come revealed at least ten more of the animals in pursuit.

'It's no use,' Seteal panted.

'To torrid with it.' Ilgrin leapt forward, picked up the black dog and threw it yelping into some bushes. In the same streamlined motion, he leapt into the air, snatched onto a balcony railing and lowered El-i-miir onto the landing. 'Seteal, take my hand!'

Seteal's heart rate increased. The pack of dogs enveloped her and several began to pounce. Her mouth was dry. The wind moved uncomfortably against her skin. Her dress swished about her ankles. With a scream lodged firmly in her throat, Seteal thrust out her hands. A pulse of intense heat surged through her arms, not to be released until it burst away from her palms. An invisible force struck the dogs and blasted them backward through the air in a frenzy of snarls and yelps. Seteal panted rapidly, examining her hands fearfully. 'What was that?'

'That . . . was you.' Ilgrin stared at her. 'Are you ok?'

'I think so,' Seteal replied as she reached for Ilgrin's hand and he lifted her onto the balcony.

'We need to get her inside,' Ilgrin said, shattering a window with his elbow before reaching in to unlock the adjacent door. An old man gasped and without hesitation Ilgrin pounced, firmly covering his mouth with one hand. 'Bring her inside,' he hissed at Seteal. 'Quickly,' he urged, restraining the old man against the far wall.

After doing as the silt had demanded, Seteal shut the door and turned to witness a scene that she hadn't expected. 'That's him,' Seteal stared at Gez-reil in disbelief. 'Ilgrin, that's him.'

Of course, by the time Seteal had spoken, it was already too late. Having regained his senses, the Elglair Elder seized the Ways and sent Ilgrin racing across the room like a fearful child.

'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.'

'It just seems so cruel.' Seteal bit her lip. 'What will he think when he wakes up to find us all gone?'

'Who cares?' El-i-miir raised her voice, having travelled far enough away from the shed to feel confident in doing so. 'He's just a bird.'

'I know, I know.' Seteal shook her head. 'I'm being silly.'

'We can't go far,' Ilgrin whispered, making sure to keep his face covered beneath a hood. 'We have to find somewhere else to hide until nightfall.'

'I know it's not great that we're exposed like this,' El-i-miir stated apologetically, 'but I figured that there'd be less of a chance of waking Seeol if we made our escape by day.'

The three hurried nervously across open fields until finding a dense patch of woods in which to hide.

Lu-ke 3

21-22. Now when all the people were baptized, it came to pass that Lu-ke also was baptized. And while He prayed the Holy Spirit descended in a vision with the body of an owl.

Joh-n 1

32. And Joh-n bore record, saying, "I saw the Spirit descend from the clouds and stand before a tree with the body of an owl."

Scriptures of the Holy Tome
CHAPTER SIX

IT BEGINS

'Can I talk to you for a minute?' Seteal's voice intruded upon El-i-miir's thoughts. She'd been watching Ilgrin at the precipice of rough terrain. He'd flown up there to keep an eye on Far-a-mael's men as they neared the city. El-i-miir had been admiring his slender, yet muscular physique, and it was for this reason that Seteal's voice proved to be such an intrusion.

El-i-miir turned around irritably. 'What is it?'

'When you focus on the Ways, have you ever found it difficult to come back to normal?'

'I don't understand.' El-i-miir frowned, whilst remembering to consider the fact that Seteal's experience of the Ways would be significantly different than that of her own. It took a great deal of concentration for Seteal to create a connection with the Ways, without which she was quite like any ordinary outlander.

'There is no going back to "normal" for me,' El-i-miir said thoughtfully, glancing at the strands of light shimmering all about her. 'I suppose the best way to explain it would be that the Ways are like a book, always open and always surrounding me. I just don't always happen to be reading them,' she finished, but saw dissatisfaction to the explanation in Seteal's aura. 'Do you see that plant over there?'

'The dead one?' Seteal asked.

'It's not dead,' El-i-miir replied. 'I can tell by its aura. It'll be dead in a day or two, but for now it's still clinging to life. Such information has been available to me the whole time we've been standing here, but I didn't know it until I chose to read the information available to me. There's no going back to "normal," as you put it.'

'When I'm with the Ways,' Seteal began uncertainly, 'sometimes it feels like I'm going to stay there forever.'

El-i-miir peered into Seteal's aura in the hopes of gaining some insight into what she was talking about. 'Something happened the last time you projected.'

'What? No!' Seteal snapped without thinking, allowing El-i-miir to detect the lie as soon as it was spoken.

'You're hiding something,' she stated. 'Tell me what it is.'

'Just forget it.' Seteal frowned. 'We should catch up with Ilgrin.' She pushed past to continue up the slope.

'If you say so.' El-i-miir attempted and probably failed to mask her concern. She knew better than to push Seteal to open up before she was ready to do so.

'Come on,' Ilgrin urged as the women approached. 'You have got to see this.'

El-i-miir stooped low as she approached. Once level with Ilgrin, she peered over the precipice to see what'd taken the silt's interest. Before them stood a tall mountain surrounded on all sides by valleys that wrapped around its circumference. A small way up the mountain fortified walls encircled Veret, the capitol city of Jenjol. At the top of the mountain was perched a castle, being the palace of the royal family. It too was encompassed by impressive walls of its own.

Far-a-mael's great hadoan was descending the adjacent valley along with the allied soldiers of Garrishnell, while Veret had no defence to be seen. The city gates were barricaded, but otherwise they were quite vulnerable. El-i-miir shifted uneasily on the hard earth. She sensed deception. Perhaps the Jenjen weren't as ill-prepared as they appeared.

'Is that . . .' Ilgrin trailed off, squinting against the sun.

'Far-a-mael,' Seteal finished flatly.

'Say what you will, but you have to admire his courage.' El-i-miir felt a strange respect for the old man when she spotted him leading the mass of troops from the front line. Seteal and Ilgrin shared an expression of disbelief before shaking their heads in disapproval.

'I have no admiration for that man.' Seteal glared at the tiny figure below. 'He's a heartless bastard who's about to carry out an unprovoked attack on countless innocent men.'

'Unprovoked?' El-i-miir balked. 'Jenjol has been threatening and preaching against the Elglair for centuries. The only reason they haven't attacked us is due to warranted fear and a lack of firepower.'

'I can't believe you're defending him,' Seteal grumbled.

'Look.' Ilgrin hushed them and pointed toward Far-a-mael's left side, where a young an'hadoan tumbled from his horse, having been struck by an arrow. 'Just one arrow?'

'It's the only one that got through,' El-i-miir whispered. 'The gils are confusing the Jenjen archers, likely turning them against each other.'

'So much for this "great army" Jenjol has been amassing,' Seteal murmured.

'Oh, Maker,' El-i-miir gasped when a glimmer of reflected light caught her attention to the city's north. 'It's a trap.'

A horn sounded loud and clear, and a thunderous roar could be heard as three separate teams of Jenjen foot soldiers erupted from the hidden valleys surrounding the Elglair. The teams submerged on the foreign invaders from every direction, waving swords and shouting battle cries. The Elglair and Garishian formations fell apart in the confusion. Released from their spell, the Jenjen archers began to fire.

Burning arrows spewed away from the fortified walls, leaving the attacking army with no defence other than to raise their shields and hope for the best. El-i-miir stared in wide-eyed fear for her people. She knew they were in the wrong, but couldn't help in caring for their wellbeing. She'd gone to school with some of those people. She shared a home with them. And they were outnumbered four to one.

'Do something, Seteal!'

'What can I do?' Seteal recoiled. 'This isn't my war.'

'Anything,' El-i-miir pleaded, her eyes locked on one figure in particular.

Far-a-mael carried his sword as though it were weightless, while his free hand moved about, turning the Ways against his victims. They fell to moan and quiver in the dirt. The old gil's sword spun effortlessly as he spilt a soldier's intestines. Another took advantage of the distraction and pounced, but Far-a-mael spun around and relieved the man of his head.

There was a thunderous roar as several hundred more Jenjen soldiers flooded up from Cold Wood. The Elglair and Garrishians retreated to the south, realising they'd been bested. The Jenjen pursued without mercy. Swords struck, cutting their mounts' hamstrings. Finally, a great line of gil'hadoans formed to forge a path of destruction away from the city. They'd been beaten and sought retreat.

'We have to do something,' El-i-miir tried again. 'They're going to kill them.'

'What makes you think I don't want that?' Seteal snarled as she watched the Jenjen closing in on Far-a-mael. 'Let them destroy each other.'

Just as the battle had begun so abruptly, it reached its conclusion in a like manner, the horn blasting repeatedly. Thousands of Jenjen soldiers lowered their swords, their expressions matching the level of confusion that El-i-miir felt. The Elglair and the Garrishians hurried on into the distance, now two-thirds the number they'd previously been.

'What on earth was that all about?' Ilgrin asked nobody in particular. 'They're just letting them escape?'

The Jenjen soldiers folded back toward the city.

'I've seen enough.' Seteal slithered back from the edge, got to her feet and dusted herself off. 'Far-a-mael has been hurt. That means he'll be disorganised. They'll have to stop for a few days and sort themselves out. This is our chance to get ahead.'

'Get ahead?' El-i-miir said distractedly, unable to tear her eyes away from the bloody scene bellow. 'He's not going to give up, you know. Somehow, he'll find the reinforcements he needs and when he does, he'll come back to finish the job.'

'All the better.' Ilgrin nodded in agreement with Seteal. 'This is our chance to put distance between him and ourselves. We're destined for Old World, remember? It's not our job to protect Far-a-mael and his men.'

'Well, yes . . . of course.' El-i-miir swallowed anxiously and attempted to focus on what they were doing . . . what were they doing? Gez-reil had said that Ilgrin would find his answers in Old World--possibly even a way to prevent war. Surely that couldn't have meant warning the silts ahead of time so that they could prepare to conquer the Elglair. Gez-reil wouldn't do that to his own kind. To do so would make him no better than Far-a-mael. 'What exactly are you getting out of this anyway?' El-i-miir asked Seteal suspiciously.

'I'll be honest with you,' Seteal replied passionately. 'Sooner or later, there will be war with Old World and at its completion Far-a-mael will stand alone in the centre of a battlefield. There will be no one to share in his victory, but for the dead men at his feet. And that is the day I'm living for, because I swear to you he will not walk away with his life intact.'

El-i-miir shuddered at the look of malevolence in Seteal's eyes. They were full of hatred. How could anybody live that way? How could it not destroy her? She looked more closely, only to realise that perhaps it already had. But Seteal's eyes began to change. They became dull, losing all passion and drive. 'The knowing,' she whispered.

Seteal rocked forward and stumbled several paces before regaining balance. Contrary to before, her eyes now bore naught but disbelief. She covered her mouth and turned away. 'I can't.' She walked in the opposite direction, forcing Ilgrin and El-i-miir to pursue her.

'What is it?' Ilgrin asked. 'Are you okay?'

'Get away from me,' Seteal barked, running away from them, only to collapse in the dry grass.

'Come on.' Ilgrin took El-i-miir's hand and they approached together. He stopped several strides away and waited patiently.

'I'm so tired of all this death,' Seteal said softly. 'I'm tired of knowing about it, feeling it, wanting it. Ilgrin.' She turned slowly. 'Please give us a moment.'

'Excuse me?'

'Please,' she insisted.

'Sure.' He held up his hands defensively and turned to walk away.

'He's going to die,' Seteal informed El-i-miir as she stood.

'I'm sorry?' El-i-miir shook her head disbelievingly. 'What're you talking about?'

'He is going to die.' Seteal pointed wildly. 'Ilgrin is going to die and it'll be forever.'

'Oh, Maker,' El-i-miir choked out before lowering herself to sit on a small boulder. 'It cannot be. You must be wrong.'

'No.' Seteal cringed as she said the word. 'It was a love so deep.' She sat down beside her friend. 'I had no idea just how deep it was. He would die for you. He will die to save us all.'

'I refuse to believe it,' El-i-miir sobbed.

'It was you,' Seteal murmured as she tried to make sense of the knowledge that'd so crassly been forced into her consciousness. 'Through all of it, I felt his love for you. It was as though the knowing were more about your Way than his.'

'It was,' El-i-miir said bitterly. 'My mother used to tell me to focus on my studies and never fall in love. She used to tell me there'd only be darkness for the one who loved me. I used to think it was because she wanted me to excel academically, but when I got older, she told me love would only bring me sorrow. When I met Ilgrin, I'd assumed that her knowing had been a misinterpretation of my falling in love with a silt. I was naïve. I was hopeful. I was wrong.'

'Make him hate you,' Seteal urged softly. 'Save his life and save yourself from the pain of losing him.'

'The knowing doesn't work like that,' El-i-miir said ruefully. 'The Ways have stained my aura with the details of what is yet to come because of the profound depth of love Ilgrin will eventually show me. The outcome is inevitable.'

'So Ilgrin will die even if you turn him away.' Seteal nodded, finally understanding. 'I'm so sorry.'

'Oh, you hate him anyway,' El-i-miir replied sullenly before standing up to walk away.

'No . . . I don't.' Seteal looked at Ilgrin pityingly, but El-i-miir was already out of earshot.

Matt-hew 24

3. And as he sat upon the mount near Veret, the reis came unto him privately, saying, "Tell us, when shall these things be? And what shall be the sign of the coming and of the end of the world?"

4. And the prophet answered and said unto them, "Take heed that no man deceive you.

5. For many shall come using Maker's name, saying, "I am the Spirit," and shall deceive many.

6. And ye shall hear of wars and rumours of wars. See that ye be not troubled, for all these things must come to pass, but the end is not yet.

7. For nation shall rise against nation and kingdom against kingdom, and there shall be famines and pestilences and earthquakes in divers places.

8. All these are the beginning of sorrows.

19. And woe unto she that is with child, and to she with a suckling infant in those days!

21. For then shall be the great tribulation, such as was not since the beginning of the world to this time, no, nor ever shall be again.

Scriptures of the Holy Tome

CHAPTER SEVEN

UPON THE WIND

The glowing golden sunlight of early dawn shimmered between the gaps in the panelled wall of the shed to touch Seeol's tightly closed eyelids. Once sunlight would not have served as a trigger to wake him, but his ways were not what they'd once been. Seeol opened his eyes with a start. It was dawn. He and his friends must've slept through the night instead of resuming their journey as planned.

'Seteal?' Seeol peered around the shed from his place atop of an old tin can. 'El-i-miish? Ilgrin?' In their apparent absence he wondered where they were.

Seeol flittered onto the hard-packed dirt floor and made his way over to the enormous door. Fortunately, it'd been left open a handswidth and he was able to escape. Before he could even open his wings, the wind picked him up and tossed Seeol into the orange and brown leaf litter. He hunkered down against the wind to inspect his surroundings in search of his friends.

A dead leaf fell, blanketing Seeol and leaving him buried in an orange glow. For a moment, he wanted not to resist his burial, but rather to remain there. It was peaceful. Here, he would be safe from that which he suspected to be true. Ignoring temptation, Seeol flapped his wings and scrabbled free of the pile of leaves that'd covered him.

'Seteal!' he cried, panic rising in his chest. He leapt into the air.

The wind's fury increased with the height of Seeol's ascension. In the treetops, his wings were near to useless and his tail feathers failed to steer. He was another leaf, bustled about at nature's mercy. His wings burned as he beat them furiously in hope of regaining some control. He ascended. Higher. Higher. He wondered if he'd reached heights never accomplished by an elf owl before.

Once gigantic trees paled to insignificance compared to the expansive fields that surrounded them. Breath came in short bursts. Elf owls were not designed for extended periods in flight. His wings were meant for hunting prey, not migration. The sun bit mercilessly at his large eyes, its brilliance overwhelming a bird of the night. There was no sign . . . not one.

The fields below were populated by none but cattle. Even if one of them had seen Seeol's friends, they wouldn't be able to tell him where they'd gone. Cows couldn't talk. Seeol knew this because he'd asked them on several occasions, but was yet to receive a sensible response. Relaxing his wings, Seeol floated back down to the treetops, where he spotted something that gave him hope.

A large owl slept camouflaged atop a branch. Seeol could tell by its great size that it was not an elf owl, but an owl just the same.

'Hello,' Seeol said upon landing somewhat further up the branch. The bird didn't respond. 'Hello,' Seeol tried again with a louder voice. He crept closer. The owl, standing five times his own height opened one eye, but showed no other sign of life. 'I'm looking for friendlies.' He shook his head. He'd said it wrong.

'I'm looking for my friends,' he tried again and was satisfied that he'd gotten it right. 'Please be helpful.' The large owl responded only by opening his beak and hissing. Seeol shuffled back along the branch. 'I'm sorry to have so intruded.'

He took his cue to leave. Meddling with strangers could be dangerous and in this case pointless.

Landing on another branch, Seeol paused to think. For whatever reason the others had left him. He wondered what could've driven them to do so. They must've wanted to get rid of him, but that didn't make any sense. They were his friends. Perhaps they'd been in danger and forgotten to wake him up. Or maybe they'd gone out for breakfast and were attacked. What if Far-a-mael had found them? Seeol's heart began to pound as he conjured up images of his friends meeting a terrible fate. Refusing to accept that it might already be too late, Seeol decided that he had to find them and save them. After all, they'd have done the same for him.

Seeol leapt into flight and chanced a glance at the sun to gain his bearings. Whether they were being pursued by danger or not, he knew the others would be continuing south for Old World. That was where he had to go. Seeol found the road south and followed it. He knew the others wouldn't be travelling by road, but if they were still free, they wouldn't be far from it.

For days, Seeol flew. He was tired and hadn't eaten enough. He beat through the skies day and night, sleeping minimally, always keeping out a watchful eye. Sometimes, he was depressed. Other times, he was panicked by renewed fear of the fate of his kin. And to him, they had truly become family. A year ago, he'd never have guessed it, living alone in Narvon Wood, that one day he'd have found family in the form of two humans and a silt. He loved them. And it was this love that drove him onward through pain and exhaustion.

In the distance, an ancient castle became visible at the peak of a green mountain. As Seeol approached he bore witness to a beautiful city filled with structures of equal age. He was caught off-guard when he spotted the Elglair hadoan approaching. Why would Far-a-mael be in this strange place? Perhaps he was visiting his friends. When chaos erupted, Seeol was forced to recognise that the people below were anything but friends. They hated each other.

Arrows flew. Swords slashed. Men died. He didn't know why everyone always had to go about killing each other. He'd accidentally killed heaps of people and couldn't understand why anyone would do it on purpose. It was so mean. Desperate to help, Seeol banked toward the great walls at the base of the valley, but something caught his eye. At the peak of a broken mountain adjacent to the city, Seeol found his family.

El-i-miir, Seteal, and Ilgrin rested on their elbows, peering out at the battle below. They were not under threat. They hadn't been captured. In fact, they looked quite well, if a little shocked at the scene unfolding before them. Seeol wanted to cuddle them, but he knew that time was short for the naughty men below. He was torn. He loved his friends, but if there was a way for him to stop the fighting he had to find it. He couldn't just stand by and watch while people were dying. They had families, too.

Alighting on the great wall, Seeol turned his attention to the men that lined it. They had bows and arrows that they shot through small gaps. The wall kept them safe so that they could kill from a distance. The inhumanity turned Seeol's stomach.

An arrow zipped past. The force sent him spiralling off the upper part of the wall and onto the landing below where countless boots trampled and rushed about. Seeol panicked. Feet were raining down all around him, each time coming perilously close to crushing him. He beat his wings, but couldn't escape. The men were too tightly packed. Here, a stray hand slapped him back down. There, a bent knee knocked him off course.

A boot landed on Seeol's tail feathers, pinning him to the spot.

'Help!' Seeol shrieked. 'Help! Seteal!' He couldn't be certain why he'd called for her, knowing very well that she was far beyond earshot.

'Watch out,' a man barked. 'Get off him.' The foot vanished and human hands scooped Seeol up to safety.

'Maker bless thee,' said a narrow-faced man with a short, neatly trimmed blond beard. He smiled warmly.

Seeol had learnt that on many occasions he should keep his mouth shut. Humans reacted strangely and often dangerously toward animals that could talk. Emquin had been living proof of that. But this was one occasion in which Seeol needed all the help he could get. And besides, the Jenjen were supposed to be fond of owls. Ilgrin and El-i-miir had both said so.

'Thank you,' Seeol replied, looking the man in the eye. 'Maker likes to blessing you, too.'

'My Maker!' The man stumbled back, all the while making sure to maintain his protective hold on Seeol.

'Your Maker,' Seeol agreed.

The man's eyes widened in disbelief. And then he was running. The wall with all its shuffling men disappeared as the archer hurried down a set of stone stairs and along a poorly lit passage before re-entering daylight. Scared women and children flashed by on either side as the human's powerful legs propelled him onward.

When the archer reached a smaller, though equally as impressive wall, he slowed to a trot and headed toward the gates. He beat his fist against them until he was granted admittance by the gatekeeper.

'The king!' the man cried. 'I must see the king!' He raced toward the castle doors without waiting for an escort.

'You there, archer! You must wait for the guard,' the gatekeeper ordered. 'What is your rush?'

'Everyone is getting murdered,' Seeol pleaded. How could he not see the urgency in that?

'I'll arrange you an audience immediately.' The gatekeeper's eyes widened as he backed away.

Before long, Seeol found himself being jostled along through candlelit corridors. There were brightly painted canvases on all of the walls depicting the Jenjen victorious in battles passed. Seeol shook his head. How could this be something in which they took pride? They'd killed people, people that someone, somewhere had loved.

Gold gilded doors opened with a gush to reveal the king making himself comfortable atop his throne, having only just entered the room himself.

'My lord.' The archer bowed deeply, then waiting for permission to stand again.

'Why have you disturbed me?' The king narrowed his piercing eyes irritably. He scratched at a thick red beard with the kind of force reserved for something he might detest. 'My people are in battle.'

'The Holy Spirit,' the archer panted. 'Maker's Holy Spirit has come!'

'What is your name?' The king sat back and sighed disbelievingly.

'Phil Yas,' the archer said breathily.

'Tell me, Mister Yas . . .' The king tapped a finger against his gem encrusted armrest. 'Are you aware of the penalty for heresy?'

'Tell him,' Phil pleaded, opening his palms.

'Tell him what?' Seeol asked in confusion. 'I don't know what is happened,' he continued, fluttering out of Phil's hands and hurrying over to the king, 'but this killing spree must stops immediately because people are died!'

The king sat for an extended moment, his eyes locked on Seeol. 'As you say, my Lord the Holy Spirit.' The old man leapt up from his chair and raced out of the room.

Moments later, a loud horn was sounded repeatedly and the intrusive noise of battle came to an end. Seeol breathed a sigh of relief. Everybody was safe now.

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE END IS NIGH

King Harundor's grounds stretched out over several hundred square strides in every direction. The top of the mountain had been flattened so as to provide a level plain on which to walk. The grounds were decorated by patches of perfectly groomed hedges and brightly blooming flowers. One hundred servants milled about the yard with trays of wine, tailing important court officials and royal associates. At the centre of the yard stood a rather extravagant golden totem of an owl--of no specific breed--boasting sizeable ear tufts. King Harundor observed the goings-on from his chair at the centre of a semicircular balcony. To his right sat the queen and his three sons. And, of course, Seeol too was present.

'Your attention, please.' A reedy man with a frilled collar stepped out onto the balcony to capture the attention of those below. 'His Lordship, King Harundor will now speak.' The man bowed himself off the balcony and the yard fell silent.

The king paused for a moment, before rising to his feet and swaggering across the balcony. He gripped the rail, his ruby ring capturing and reflecting the midday sun. 'Many of you are aware of why you've been assembled,' he began with an elevated voice. 'As the writers of the Holy Tome prophesised over two and a half thousand years ago, Maker's Holy Spirit has come down to our people. The Holy Tome teaches that the Holy Spirit would come to us with the body of an owl in our greatest time of need. The prophesy of which I speak has recently been fulfilled. It comes as no surprise that Maker should grant us this blessing at a time when the Elglair seek to engage Old World in war. We are on the cusp of a new age: an age of violence. The end, my brothers, has become imminent.'

Harundor lifted a hand to his forehead and squinted at the crowds below. 'I, Braihon Harundor, protector and humble servant of the people of Jenjol, hereby swear fealty to Seeol, the Hand of Maker and the Holy Spirit. I give my kingdom over into His hands: the hands of Maker Himself. I do so with a humbled heart that the Lord may do with me as He pleases. Amen.'

The man took a step back and bowed. In like manner, the people dropped to their knees and lowered their faces to the dirt.

Seeol felt overwhelmed to say the least. He didn't understand every word that'd been spoken, but as far as he could tell, he'd recently made a great deal of new friends. Silence prevailed, both the royal family and the folks below maintaining their positions. Finally, Seeol realised that perhaps he was expected to say something: to introduce himself. 'I am Seeol,' he began. 'I will be your friend, but I must go to Old World.'

'Of course, Holy Spirit.' The king rose steadily and with him did his subjects. 'The time has come and with Your good will, we cannot fail.'

'We must find the Elglair,' Seeol continued. 'They will be my friends, too. Please don't hurting them anymore. We can all go to Old World together and help.' Seeol smiled inwardly. He just knew that the other silts would be like Ilgrin and everyone would be able to get along like the very best of friends.

'Of course!' Harundor exclaimed. 'We will do as you say and form an alliance with the Elglair. Together we will be indestructible. Together, we shall travel to Old World and there we shall obliterate the demon threat.'

'Yes!' Seeol shrieked excitedly. He'd never heard the word 'obliterate' before, but felt certain it must mean something similar to 'cuddle.' 'We will obliterate them!' Seeol cried, hopping about excitedly on his tall, golden perch.

The crowd below roared with enthusiasm, cheering and shouting joyously. Seeol's heart swelled at the realisation that he'd made them happy. El-i-miir would've been so proud.

'My Lord, Holy Spirit,' the king said with quiet determination. 'I must tend to your orders immediately. With your blessing, I will send scouts ahead to meet with the Elglair.'

'Yesh.' Seeol bobbed his head. 'But don't trust Far-a-mael.'

'He is their leader?'

'Yes.'

'We will never trust them too much, Holy Spirit,' Harundor said reassuringly. 'The Elglair abandoned You long ago. We know this just as You know that we are your true people.'

'They did abandon me.' Seeol gaped at Harundor, surprised by his knowledge. How could he have known that El-i-miir and the others abandoned him in the tool shed? The king truly must be a powerful man. 'But we must find them all the same.'

'Of course.' The king bowed as he moved away. 'An alliance is the only way we will be strong enough to take Old World.

'Yes.' Seeol tilted his head, uncertain as to where exactly the king was planning to take Old World. He might've enquired further, but Harundor scurried away to carry out his duties.

'My Lord, Holy Spirit, the Hand of Maker, our Father from above,' said a girl several years younger than Seteal as she approached in a silky maroon dress. She wore a single golden glove patterned in leaf-work embroidery and had rich red hair that tumbled down her back. 'I am your humble slave, Ieane. Of course, you may call me whatever you wish. King Harundor has asked me to show you to your personal chambers.' She raised her gloved hand, allowing Seeol to step up onto her fingers.

'Yes, please, Ieane.' Seeol bobbed his head in agreement. 'We will be good friends and you will not be a slave because you are my friend.'

'As you wish, Holy Spirit.' The girl bowed her head respectfully before making her way inside, Seeol perched on her decorative glove. A short trip along darkly lit stone corridors led to a rather old-looking door. At the top of the door, a square hole had been carved hastily to allow for the comings and goings of an elf owl. A small maroon curtain hung in the owl-sized entrance out of respect for Seeol's privacy. Not that he really needed any. He was only an elf owl, after all. Seteal and the others made sure to remind him of that.

'Your chambers, my Lord,' Ieane raised her hand toward the square entrance.

'For me?' Seeol stepped into the opening and nuzzled the curtain aside. 'Can I look and play?'

'You may do as you wish, my Father,' Ieane replied, her eyes downcast.

'Thank you.' Seeol tilted his head, confused as to how the girl might've mistaken him for her father. But of course, these people called him a lot of unfamiliar names. It didn't bother Seeol. He was happy just to have so many new friends. Not so long ago, Seeol hadn't even had a name. He'd accepted Seeol only because it was what the others chose to call him. Why not allow the Jenjen the same opportunity?

Seeol flew down into the chamber. It was all too much. The bed could've fit several humans. There was a table and chairs. There were mirrors and bookshelves. There was even a large clock. Seeol practiced his laugh and flew back to the doorway.

'Come in! Come in, Ieane.'

'May I?' a deep voice rumbled. It was not Ieane's. The girl stood behind a tall slender man wearing an imposing green robe. He had black hair and dark eyes.

'Come in,' Seeol replied with caution, before flying toward his table and coming to rest on the back of a chair. The main door opened to reveal the strange man returning a key to Ieane before entering.

'I am Den Damah.' The tall man bowed several strides from Seeol's chair. 'High Priest of Veret.'

'Yes.' Seeol shrugged his wings.

'Yes . . . ?' High Priest Damah narrowed his eyes. 'As the all-knowing Hand of Maker, you must know the truth of my secret.'

'I know many naughty secrets,' Seeol said in confusion. Had the stranger learnt of Seeol's past misdeeds?

'I'm certain you do.' Damah's voice quivered anxiously. 'But I'm humbly asking if you might explain this?' He reached into his pocket to retrieve a spherical stone no larger than Seeol's eye. So black was the stone that it appeared to shine darkness, thereby draining the light from its immediate surroundings. As a result, its exact dimensions were hard to determine.

'That is mine.' Seeol stared at the stone in horror. He had never seen it before, but it looked exactly like something he knew very well.

There existed a tree in a clearing in the northern parts of Narvon Wood. It was black to such a point that it drained light from the air and set a burden to the soul. It was the tree beneath which Seeol had hatched.

'Yes, Master.' The high priest fell to his knees. 'It is yours.'

'It is of terrible evil.' Seeol's face sunk to the floor. It could only be a thing of evil, just like him.

'Then you truly are He.' Damah's chin quivered. 'You recognise your own creation for the darkness it bears.'

'Yes,' Seeol said bitterly, realising that the stone must have been found near his tree. 'It is from the woods were it all began.'

'Yes,' Damah replied. 'You trusted it to Sa'Tan, but he defied You. Instead of doing as he'd been instructed, he used it to forge a gateway between our worlds and illegally entered the garden of Edin.'

'What?' Seeol cocked his head in utter confusion. 'Where is it from?'

'We believe it was found by demons in Cold Wood, where the gates were opened for the first time so very long ago,' Damah replied, failing to answer the question that Seeol had actually asked. 'They took the Devil's Stone to Old World and there it remained for thousands of years. And, of course, You know it was brought here by a distant ancestor of mine. Thereafter, it was passed down from father to son. But You are the rightful owner of the stone.'

'Ancestor.' Seeol tried out the word, unfamiliar of its meaning.

'I'm sorry, Father.' The blood left Damah's face. 'Forgive me. Forgive me, but, yes, my long dead ancestor was a Sa'Tanist. Although he did commit the unforgivable sin of demon worship, in the end he came back to the fold to resume his worship of You.'

'Don't care,' Seeol replied, having become bored of the conversation. 'Give it.' He pointed at the stone in the man's hand.

'Of course.' Damah placed the stone into Seeol's talons. 'It is yours to do with as you wish.'

'What should this do with it?' Seeol asked.

'That is not for mortal man to decide.'

'Just tells me,' Seeol grumbled in frustration.

'Of course! You're testing me,' Damah squeaked. 'The Holy Tome refers to it as a stone of great power. When Maker went away, it was given to Sa'Tan the Devil so that he could protect the inhabitants of our world from his residence in Hae'Evun. Instead of doing as he'd been instructed, he used the stone for evil. He was jealous of our world and created a gateway. Then, after stealing the sacred power of resurrection, he and his kin broke through into the realm of man.'

'What did happened to the gates?' Seeol asked.

'Many months after the gates had been opened, they grew weak and collapsed in on themselves, thereby ceasing to exist. Maker had been wise enough to know that even His most beloved servant might use His power for wickedness. In the case of such heresy, He'd given the stone's power certain limitations. It can work miracles, but they do not last indefinitely. It is fabled that the stone can only be used three times and that each time its power will grow weaker and its duration much shorter.' Damah sighed. 'We turned our backs on You and now our world is rife with sin.'

'Thank you.' Seeol stared into the hypnotic blackness of the stone. Unlike the tree beneath which he'd been born, the stone was strangely warm and welcoming. 'I think I will be rested now.'

'Of course.' Damah backed out of the room and closed the door behind him.

Seeol flew over to his large bed and landed in its centre. He dropped the black sphere on the blankets, before taking flight to the bookshelf.

'Holy Spirit?' Ieane called, lightly tapping on the door.

'Yes?' Seeol responded.

'Forgive me this intrusion, Great One,' Ieane said with lowered eyes as she entered the room.

'You is a great one, too.' Seeol bobbed his head, appreciating the compliment.

'King Harundor has asked if you'd like to attend the hanging this afternoon.'

'Okay,' Seeol replied, despite having no idea what a hanging was. 'Will you help this book down?' Seeol tapped his beak on a thick black book that looked similar to the one Seteal had been carrying around.

'Certainly.' Ieane pulled it out. Seeol flew over to his table and she followed, placing the book flat on its surface.

'What is this?' Seeol prodded the golden text with his toe.

'You must know,' Ieane gasped. 'It is the Holy Tome.'

Seeol looked away. 'I can't read.'

'You can't read?' Ieane seemed shocked.

'Writing is a human thing,' Seeol said defensively. 'Nobody ever taught me.'

'Of course,' Ieane said apologetically.

'Will you teach me?'

'I'd be honoured,' Ieane replied. 'But if you wish to see the hanging, we really must make our way outside.'

'Okay,' Seeol replied. 'We'll read later!'

*

The door opened with a clunk. Briel awoke with a start. He thrust out his hand and gripped Fes's arm. He used his feet to push himself back against the slippery wall. His chains clinked noisily and he cursed them silently. How had he slept? How had he slept knowing that today was the day?

He tried to plea for his wife's salvation, but the sound that came out was unintelligible. Light poured into the dungeon and Briel's eyes met Fes's. Hers glinted big and round, full of fear. The guards surrounded them. Men grabbed their shoulders and prodded them onto hands and knees. Briel wasn't used to using his legs. He stumbled and came to a stop when his head cracked against a wall. Blood oozed away from his scalp.

A woman screamed. Was it Fes? Cruel men laughed. A tunnel. Briel was in a tunnel, a sword pressed into his back. He stumbled forward, one hand over his wound, the other still maintaining contact with his wife. Bright light. Crowds were roaring, screaming, excited by the coming execution. The sun shone blisteringly bright in the eternal blue sky.

Fes fell on her face only to be kicked in the side. Briel grunted as he leapt toward her aggressors, but was dragged away up a short flight of stairs and onto the wooden gallows platform. A rope was tightened around his neck. The king of Jenjol watched, along with his royal cohort. There was a bird.

Fes wheezed as she was dragged up to the noose beside Briel. Their eyes met. They had no special powers, no mystical abilities. Still they saw into each other's minds. There was no need for words. Words would've been deafeningly insufficient. Briel tore his eyes away, the pain of her death running deep. Across the crowd, Harundor jeered. There was the bird, perched on a golden glove. That bird . . . Briel knew that bird. Fes realised it sooner.

'Seeol!' The scream pierced the crowd as it erupted from Fes's lips. Her voice failed on her second attempt, so Briel took up her post and cried his plea to the small owl. It didn't matter why the creature was there. He was their only hope.

'Seeol!' Briel bellowed a second time.

The hangman stared out over the crowd as the king raised his hand. Seeol's eyes locked on Briel's, before moving down to the rope around his neck. The feathers atop his head flattened and the bird's wings flared as he leapt into the air. The king's hand plummeted, giving the command. The hangman's fingers touched the lever. Seeol's wings were a blur, his eyes wide in horror. The hangman began to push the lever. The gallows creaked. Seeol shrieked.

The elf owl dug his talons into the hangman's arm and bit his finger. The man howled in pain and threw up his arms. He stumbled off-balance and fell backward, landing atop his head on the hard-packed earth below. There was a loud crack. Briel knew the man was dead.

'Let them go!' Seeol cried at the nearest guardsman.

The rope was removed and Briel stumbled into his wife's arms. The crowd cried out their disappointment as the two stumbled down the steps and into the waiting arms of the guards.

'Seeol,' Briel began, only to cry out as a clenched fist met with his jaw and abruptly put an end to the likelihood of any further communication.

'Don't you speak to the Holy Spirit, Sa'Tanist!'

'Let my friends go.' Seeol scrabbled along Briel's arm and wedged himself against the man's neck. 'They is staying with me now and we can read books.'

'As you say, Holy Spirit,' the guard replied with discontent. He was clearly disappointed with Seeol's orders and yet quite to Briel's surprise, he obeyed them.

'What've ye gotten ye self into, ye silly bird?' Briel asked of the little owl perched on his shoulder.

'Didn't you knows?' Seeol dug his toes in excitedly and puffed out his chest with pride. 'I'm the Holy Spirit!'

*

His tent was the biggest. He was the most important. He was supposed to be the strongest. Lately he wasn't so sure. Flies flew frantically about Far-a-mael's head. It was irritating. A cockroach scampered across the floor and made a dive for his toe. He flicked the insect across the tent and turned his attention back to the book in front of him.

His eyes rolled over a small passage entitled, 'Common Allergens.' He could've spent time pawing through the pages, but Far-a-mael already had most of its contents memorised. There were very few allergies that he hadn't suffered as a boy. Most had cleared up with age. Others--such as Far-a-mael's intolerance to seafood--still plagued him to that day. It was his most frequent ailment that was quite unlike anything he'd before suffered.

After several months of becoming increasingly ill, it came as little surprise to Far-a-mael when he found a long-forgotten passage in the dusty old book. There he discovered an allergy that fit his most recent symptoms. He was allergic to resurrection. Those who suffered from the allergy rejected resurrection and while they still came back to life, their bodies went on behaving as though they were dead. As such, Far-a-mael was decomposing.

His pallid hands left wet patches on the table. His tent bore the odour of rotting flesh. There was a worm burrowing its way through Far-a-mael's arm. That was proof enough of his fate, should he have required any further convincing. His body was slowly but certainly rejecting Ilgrin's resurrection.

Far-a-mael was dying.

He didn't fear death. He was, however, disappointed by it. Far-a-mael sought to die a warrior after slaying the last of the silts in the battlefields of Old World, not as a breathing corps lying in a puddle of his own bodily fluids.

The Elglair and the Setbranians were weaker now in number than they'd been before. The Jenjen had been stronger than anticipated and had made a serious dent in Far-a-mael's hadoan. He just couldn't figure out why they hadn't continued their attack. Surely they'd have come out victorious. The question often plagued Far-a-mael's thoughts. Why not finish them off? Why would they show mercy in their moment of conquest?

Far-a-mael exhaled slowly and put a hand to his neck as he'd come to do habitually. He traced a line over his throat where his head had once been detached. There were no scars. The resurrection had gone seamlessly. He occasionally still had dreams, but they were getting better. And Seeol. If Far-a-mael ever had the misfortune of confronting him, he'd be sure to put the bird out of his misery.

A glance at the tent opening told Far-a-mael that My-ro-adin--one of the gil'hadoans--was coming to see him. A slender line of shifting colours gave a taste of the gil's gloomy aura, snaking its way through the tent before the man himself. Far-a-mael stood behind his desk and waited for the man to enter, taking the same path as the light that went before him.

'May I speak with you?'

'Take a seat.' Far-a-mael thought it wise to sit down. Something had popped in one of his knees and now the entire leg seemed shorter. He could likewise feel liquid squirting internally, and was worried it'd cause swelling. The Ways dimmed down and for a moment portions of My-ro-adin's aura became invisible. Such were the inconveniences that came with being somewhat dead. 'Well? What do you want?'

'King Harundor has sent a party of soldiers to speak with you.' The man ran his eyes along Far-a-mael's tinted green flesh. 'They've refused to give details of their visit to anyone but you.'

'You sent them away, yes?'

'No, War Elder Far-a-mael.' The man twitched nervously. 'They have come as unarmed messengers.'

Far-a-mael glared at the man, but then changed his mind. 'I suppose one may never have too much information.' He sighed, sitting back in his chair. 'Send them in, but before you go, have we heard anything back from Riverend?'

'Not yet, War Elder,' My-ro-adin answered.

'And are the supply chains keeping up. The men have to eat! We won't get far with a starved army.'

'Of course,' My-ro-adin replied hesitantly. 'We're travelling slowly enough for that reason.' He put his nose in the air and went to leave with a defined loftiness about his aura. Men like My-ro-adin were not used to dealing with authority. He stopped at the exit and turned back slowly. The gil kept a straight face, but his aura betrayed him, swimming frantically and changing colours at a harried pace.

'What is it?' Far-a-mael grumbled.

'The men have raised . . . concerns.'

'Oh?'

'They're worried about your health.' My-ro-adin stood proud, but could not maintain eye contact.

'I am quite well,' Far-a-mael barked, throwing down his fists on the table defensively. The sound was similar to that made by rotten fruit that splits on landing. A brown liquid of bodily origins sprayed up from the table and splattered the gil'hadoan's face. The man flinched, but was too taken aback to wipe his face.

'Get out,' Far-a-mael hissed with narrowed eyes.

A short while later two tired-eyed Jenjen messengers entered Far-a-mael's tent. They wore plain clothes and nervous expressions.

'What have you to say for yourselves?'

'You are War Elder Far-a-mael?' one of the men enquired.

'I am.'

'I'm Mister Smin,' the man said nervously. 'This is Mister Hirrald. We have been sent by King Harundor in accordance with our guiding Holy Spirit--blessed be His name--to propose an alliance with the Elglair.'

'You're joking?' Far-a-mael burst out laughing, only to stop when he felt one of his lungs sliding uncomfortably. 'The Jenjen have never bothered to keep their hatred for the Elglair a secret. Why the torrid do you seek an alliance now?'

'Maker walks among us in the form of His Holy Spirit,' Mister Smin replied solemnly. 'The Holy Spirit has directed us to form an alliance with you so that we may take over and destroy Old World together. We will not be strong enough if our quarrelling continues.'

'Indeed.' Far-a-mael stroked his beard, his spirits lifting. 'Your king is proposing active involvement in this little war I've got planned?'

'Such an alliance would only be withstanding as long as Old World remains a threat,' Mister Smin clarified.

'Give me a reason to trust you,' Far-a-mael stated as he rose to his feet. 'How can I trust Harundor?'

'With all due respect,' Mister Smin began, 'we could have destroyed you when you attacked us. We did not.'

'All the same.' Far-a-mael frowned. 'I wish to speak with the king himself. Tell him I've extended an invitation to dine with him at his palace next week.'

'At his palace?' Mister Hirrald asked nervously, speaking for the first time. 'You cannot invite yourself into the king's residence.'

'Oh, well then.' Far-a-mael sighed. 'No alliance, I suppose.'

'Don't be so quick to make that decision.' Mister Smin threw up his hands. 'I'm sure it'll be fine. Someone will be sent to tell you a date and time.'

'Good.' Far-a-mael smiled. 'I look forward to seeing him.'

CHAPTER NINE

DEMONS

Ilgrin sat on a branch some fifty strides above the earth with his feet dangling and his arm wrapped around the trunk. The view should've taken his breath away, but instead he stared at nothing. El-i-miir had told him to leave. Her face had been flushed, tears flowing freely. She said she'd wanted him to go to Old World alone. He just couldn't figure out why she'd changed her mind.

El-i-miir had become increasingly distant over the preceding days and without her to talk to, not a lot was said by anyone. Seteal didn't speak, preferring instead to stew in her own miseries. Ilgrin was left feeling rather alone. The women were specks by the road below. They'd built a fire and sat beside it in gloomy silence. They had a secret, but Ilgrin couldn't begin to guess what it might be. Even Seteal had taken to avoiding eye contact. Perhaps he'd upset them somehow.

The three hadn't travelled much over the last few days. Given their present situation, they'd been far too nervous to do so. The hadoan filled the landscape to the south and with Veret to the north, they'd managed to wedge themselves between two very formidable foes. They'd continued very cautiously in the hopes of edging their way around Far-a-mael's army to continue south and reach Old World before him. But that suddenly meant nothing. Now that El-i-miir wanted Ilgrin to go alone, he could simply fly away whenever he saw fit. Nobody would be able to stop him.

Stretching his wings, Ilgrin leapt from the tree and flew low over the lightly wooded plains. He could really only risk flying at night, but even then didn't dare remain airborne for very long. Ilgrin landed quietly, having decided to make his way back by foot.

It took at least half an hour before he was able to spot firelight flickering through the trees. It seemed he'd flown farther than he'd realised. The trees had increased in number, but every now and then he caught a glimpse of yellow light and knew that he was close. When he slid out through the tree-line, Ilgrin found himself in a small clearing with a fire at its centre. Immediately he recognised his mistake. He and the others had camped closer to the road.

Four men sat around the fire warming their hands, but they were not the kind of men Ilgrin was accustomed to seeing. He stared at their arching wings and couldn't help but gasp in recognition of his own kind.

'Maker,' a silt facing his direction gasped in astonishment. 'It's him!'

A gunshot pierced the night and tree bark erupted into a sea of splinters beside Ilgrin's head. He was running . . . running until he found a place where the woods thinned enough to fly. Bullets whistled through the air, shots ringing to drown out the whoosh of beating wings. Three silts flew above the trees and several more pursued from behind.

A woman screamed. El-i-miir was running through the woods. A silt bore down on her. Ilgrin twisted his wings painfully in alteration of his flight path. He snatched at branches and swung around them, leaping between trees and diving through the air. The silt below raked forward his feet to reveal footwear bearing sharp metal talons. Ilgrin was under no illusions as to what the talons were intended for: tearing human flesh.

Ilgrin had the wind knocked out of his lungs when he slammed bodily into El-i-miir's pursuer. The two hit the earth and tumbled through the dirt until they hit a tree. There was no time. Ilgrin pushed the stranger away and threw an arm around El-i-miir's waist, to drag her feverishly into the air. He ignored his complaining muscles and doubled his efforts, spotted an exit and shot through an opening in the canopy.

'Where's Seteal?'

'I don't know,' El-i-miir choked out. 'They're gaining on us, Ilgrin!' she cried.

'I know,' Ilgrin murmured, risking a glance over his shoulder. 'Forgive me!' he shouted as he opened his toes and allowed El-i-miir to plummet screaming into the stream below. 'What!?' Ilgrin shouted back at his attackers. 'It's me you want!'

'Get the girl!' one the silts shouted and another immediately swooped toward the earth.

'No,' Ilgrin gasped, but it was too late. A man much larger and stronger than Ilgrin wrapped a hand around his throat and squeezed just hard enough to make it difficult to breathe. A pistol was put to Ilgrin's head as the silt swooped down, dragging him along by his throat. They reached the earth to find El-i-miir had been pinned down, sopping wet and terrified.

'Watch this,' El-i-miir said breathily to Ilgrin's captor. The silt who had been holding her down stepped back, his eyes staring at nothing.

'Caleb?' another of the silt's enquired. 'Are you okay?' Caleb said nothing. He calmly raised a pistol to the side of his head and pulled the trigger. Ilgrin gasped in horror and leapt back as the body hit the earth.

'It's the woman!' the silt who'd spoken earlier said nervously. 'She's an affiliate.'

'Kill her,' the large silt ordered. 'Quickly!'

'No.' Ilgrin leapt forward, only to be dragged back by his throat. El-i-miir grunted and her eyes closed as she was struck in the back of the head. A silt kneelt over Caleb, hands placed flat against his chest. Bits of scull and brains tumbled across the earth and leapt back into place. His scull crunched and shimmied into a smooth surface. Skin slid across muscle and fresh hair sprouted. Then that dirty black mist with which Ilgrin was so familiar drifted away from Caleb's flesh as he came back to life.

'What do you want from me?' Ilgrin snapped, unable to tear his eyes from El-i-miir's dead or unconscious form. If the former were true, he would not hesitate to resurrect her. To torrid with the consequences.

'Under order of his Highness the Devil you are hereby placed under arrest for informal execution this night,' Caleb removed his sword from its scabbard.

'Ilgrin!' Seteal's voice pierced the night as she hurried between the trees. 'Get down.' The woman hit the ground, abandoning her lifeless body to roll to a stop at Caleb's feet.

'That was anticlimactic.' Caleb nudged Seteal with his toe.

Ilgrin swallowed nervously as an eerie silence fell upon the woods. Night birds didn't sing. Crickets didn't chirp. The trees didn't rustle. Ilgrin didn't need to be told twice. He hit the ground and squeezed El-i-miir's hand. A wave of hot wind poured through the trees in the form of a deafening explosion. Ilgrin clung to a root and grabbed Seteal's leg in his toes when her body rolled toward him. The silts clung to trees and branches, but soon lost their grip.

The wind stopped and Ilgrin released Seteal, allowing her to rock onto her back. His eyes ran over her slender body and down to her slightly extended stomach. He realised then that she was pregnant, but didn't have time to contemplate the situation. He turned back to El-i-miir to find Caleb had already snatched her into the air. The silts must've thought she was responsible for the wind.

Ilgrin leapt into the night sky. El-i-miir's scream told him that she'd regained consciousness. A silt's body hit the earth with a sickening thud. One by one the others did the same. They were in flight and then they were dead, falling through the air. Only Caleb remained. And he was El-i-miir's captor. Ilgrin lunged into the air only to discover a newly repossessed Caleb heading back to earth. His landing was clumsy, which was forgivable considering El-i-miir's lack of experience in flight. Ilgrin landed and took the woman into his arms.

Caleb's legs fell out from under him as he died and fell on his face.

'What happened to them?' Ilgrin stepped over for a closer look. He gazed at the bodies all around them and slowly spun in terror. He'd miscounted earlier. Caleb wasn't the last. 'El-i-miir!'

A sword slashed forward, pierced El-i-miir's back and came out through her stomach. She looked down, hands hovering above the blade. Behind her stood a young silt, his expression one of relished vengeance. He sneered and tore the blade free, preparing for a second strike. It was one that would never come. His eyes rolled back and he fell in death.

El-i-miir landed on her knees. Ilgrin rushed to her side. Her face became white and she shook uncontrollably. She fell onto her side. Ilgrin got to his knees.

'Oh, Maker, no,' he sobbed.

'Ilgrin,' El-i-miir wheezed. 'Don't do it. You have to promise not to do it.'

'Why?' Ilgrin breathed, inches from her face.

'It's too much,' El-i-miir sobbed. 'I could never forgive you.'

'But you're dying,' Ilgrin pleaded. 'Let me.'

'It's not worth the cost.' El-i-miir's eyes began to close.

'Don't do this,' Ilgrin barked, stood up and slammed his fist into a tree. 'What am I supposed do?' he shouted at nobody.

'Do it.' A clammy hand wrapped around Ilgrin's wrist and squeezed reassuringly.

'You?' Ilgrin stared at Seteal as he again hunched over El-i-miir protectively. 'Of all people, this is coming from you?'

'Do it,' Seteal repeated without expression. 'The longer you wait, the worse it'll be. You know that.'

'She doesn't . . . didn't want me to,' Ilgrin said, realising El-i-miir's chest had ceased to rise and fall. 'And you shouldn't either.'

'She's not very dead,' Seteal pushed. 'If you act now, the whisp won't necessarily be too large.'

'Any amount of evil is too much.' Ilgrin shook his head.

'Listen to me, you idiot,' Seteal snapped. 'She doesn't want you to save her life because you're going to die instead.'

'What?' Ilgrin gasped.

'You're going to die, Ilgrin,' Seteal said without compassion. 'I had a knowing. You're going to save her life and then you're going to die.'

'The whisp,' Ilgrin said softly. 'It's going to kill me.'

'That's the choice you have to make,' Seteal replied. 'It's the one I already know you have made.'

There was no further hesitation. Ilgrin put his hands over El-i-miir's body and immediately they began to tingle. Then they burned. The wound in El-i-miir's stomach shrank and sealed up. El-i-miir's colour returned, she took a breath and her beautiful blue eyes popped open. They looked at Ilgrin revealing a mixture of sorrow and betrayal. Her quivering lips parted and she rolled onto hands and knees. She coughed twice and again looked at Ilgrin.

'Run,' she choked out. Then the black mist poured from her nose and mouth. It wafted from her pores and oozed from her tear ducts.

'I love you.' Ilgrin stepped back as the darkness began to fill the clearing. He turned and leapt into the sky. He beat his wings as hard as he could, but knew there would be no way to outrun a whisp. Had it chosen him as a target, it would not rest until satisfied.

A patch of moving darkness blotted out the stars behind him. The whisp was coming. Ilgrin panted and cried as he beat his wings to the point of agony. He needed to go faster. Faster! The only sign that the whisp was getting any closer was the fact that increasingly greater numbers of stars were vanishing behind him. The cold slithered up Ilgrin's legs and along his body. The whisp crawled over his flesh, toying with him, a cat playing with its food. Then there was only darkness. Ilgrin could hear himself breathing, otherwise all was silent and black. The mist had enveloped him completely.

Quite unexpectedly his toes became warm, then his legs and body. The mist overtook him and continued on its journey. It hadn't been pursuing him after all, merely travelling in the same direction. Ilgrin headed back to where he'd left the others, flooded with relief.

'Seems like you were wrong.' Ilgrin landed before Seteal and El-i-miir.

'Oh, thank Maker,' El-i-miir rushed into his arms.

'Maybe it'll come back.' Seteal frowned.

'I don't think so,' Ilgrin replied. 'It passed right through me . . . or I did through it. Whatever! My point is that it didn't fuse. So you,' he wiggled a finger at Seteal, 'were wrong!'

'I'm often wrong,' Seteal said dismissively, 'but the knowing is never wrong. My interpretation of when may have been incorrect, but you will someday die to save her.'

'Oh, for goodness sake,' Ilgrin grumbled, 'can't you let us enjoy this small victory without being a constant downer?'

'Don't enjoy yourself too much,' El-i-miir said quietly. 'We've still done something terrible here.'

'This is true.' Seteal glared at Ilgrin and shook her head.

'You encouraged me to do it!' Ilgrin threw out his arms defensively.

'Only because I thought it was going to kill you,' Seteal replied with a shrug.

'Really?' Ilgrin stared at her in disbelief. 'I still mean that little to you? What a bitch.' He turned away.

'That's not what I meant,' Seteal said defensively. 'What I meant is that if it killed you, at least you'd be choosing to give up your life for someone you love. Now it might go off and kill a baby.'

'Well, that's how this works, Seteal!' Ilgrin spun around and shouted at her. He felt his face flushing blue with rage. 'And who the torrid are you to talk to me about killing innocents? What about them?' He waved his arms out at the bodies all around them. 'What'd you do to them?'

'I did what was necessary to save us from certain death.' Seteal lowered her eyes, abruptly becoming very subdued.

'Seteal?' El-i-miir approached cautiously. 'What did you do?'

'I severed them from the canvas.' Seteal cringed.

'The what?' El-i-miir shook her head.

'When I'm projecting, I don't see as I would see ordinarily because I don't have eyes,' Seteal said distractedly. 'It's as though everything is woven together in some strange way. Far-a-mael once said my pupils were too dark to see through. Well, I guess how I see the Ways is kind of like how a blind man might interpret his surroundings by feeling rather than seeing.' Seteal kept her eyes on the ground and continued to ramble. Ilgrin was beginning to think she was trying to lead them off-topic. 'When I project, there exists a canvas composed of infinite strands. Everyone and everything is there. We are all strands in the weaving. Each strand is composed of thousands of smaller ones and so on.'

'Why are you telling us this?' Ilgrin demanded, having heard enough. 'Perhaps you could tell us how upwards of a half dozen silts have died without being touched.'

'Far-a-mael taught me how to severe the strands in the canvas.' Seteal shifted her feet uneasily. 'He got me to practise on a wall once. It was only a tiny strand and so a crack appeared, that portion of the wall having ceased to exist.'

'You cut them out of the Ways?' El-i-miir gaped.

'I didn't mean to,' Seteal said. 'I only cut a tiny strand on the first one, hoping to disable him, but apparently all the bits of a living being are important to their survival. Once I'd made the first slice, all of the rest began to unravel.'

'But you killed off the others just the same,' Ilgrin stated.

'I was trying to save our lives,' Seteal said forcefully. 'You'd both be dead had it not been for me!'

'Oh, don't get us wrong,' El-i-miir reassured her, 'we know that what you did was necessary. It's just that . . .' El-i-miir turned to look at Ilgrin.

'What?' Seteal enquired irritably.

'Well . . .' Ilgrin took over from El-i-miir. 'You are very dangerous.'

Seteal stepped up to Ilgrin and looked into his eyes with a half-smile. 'And don't forget it,' she whispered.

'Please, Seteal.' El-i-miir looked at the woman with a strange new fear. 'Just . . . be careful what you go about slicing up in the Ways. You might accidentally end up cutting the whole world out of existence.'

'I'll meet you back by the fire,' Seteal said without breaking eye contact. Then she turned and walked away.

There was a long period of awkward silence before El-i-miir stepped into Ilgrin's arms. 'It's true, isn't it,' he whispered, heart sinking. 'I'm going to die saving you.' He felt tears wetting his chest.

'No.' El-i-miir stepped back, tears tracing done her cheeks. 'Not for you. The knowing is linked to me and the man I love.'

'What're you saying?' Ilgrin put a hand to his chest, hurt by what she'd said.

'I don't love you,' El-i-miir replied.

'You're just saying that to try and save me from Seteal's prophesy.'

'No.' El-i-miir covered her face with her hands and burst into tears. 'You've broken my heart. How can I love you when the very thing I loved most about you is gone? You're supposed to be a good man. You're supposed to be perfect. Now you've gone and done this. You've resurrected the one you love at the expense of everybody else. You're just another demon,' El-i-miir wailed.

'That's not fair!' Ilgrin cried. 'I thought it would kill me.'

'But it didn't!' El-i-miir shouted through a haze of tears. 'And I know I'm a hypocrite.' El-i-miir threw up her hands and shook her head. 'I affiliated a resurrection to bring back Far-a-mael, but you were supposed to be different. You were supposed be better than that. It was why I fell in love with you. Now . . . you're just another monster.'

Ilgrin stared at El-i-miir and the makeup running down her face. The two simply watched each other. The gulf between them had become impossible to cross. 'Well, if that's the way you feel.' Ilgrin opened his wings and vanished into the night. It was time for him to join the other monsters.

*

'Seteal,' El-i-miir called, hurrying up to the camp fire.

'What's wrong?'

El-i-miir spun around in a slow circle observing tendrils of light mapping out the paths strangers would soon be walking. 'Someone's coming.'

'The bodies,' Seteal gasped. 'We have to get as far away as possible.' El-i-miir went to throw some dirt on the fire, but Seteal grabbed her arm. 'Just leave it. There's no time.'

El-i-miir gasped and tried to stop, but it was too late. She saw the aura only as she slammed into the stranger's back. A Jenjen soldier spun around and grabbed her. Another took a hold of Seteal.

'Well, well,' a third man strolled over with a menacing expression. 'This one's Elglair. Ha! I knew Far-a-mael couldn't be trusted. Blindfold her. We can't risk her causing us any grief. Not tonight.'

El-i-miir threw out a tendril of affiliation, but it was too late. Before she could focus on weaving it into place, she had a black material tied tightly over her eyes, rendering her blind. All she could do now was hope Seteal had a plan.

CHAPTER TEN

UNEXPECTATION

The Holy Tome lay open at Seeol's toes, which he periodically warmed over the candle sitting beside him. He slid a claw beneath the page, lifted it, burrowed beneath it, and pushed it over. He scrambled to the top of the page to analyse its words.

Reading was difficult and Seeol found himself considering calling upon Ieane to help him. The girl was an excellent reader, but he decided against enlisting her assistance, as she always seemed so fearful in his presence. Ieane would jump about, bowing and apologising for things that didn't matter. It made conversation rather dull. Still, she'd been a brilliant teacher and Seeol was grateful for her efforts. Because of Ieane, he'd developed at least a sketchy understanding of how reading worked.

Seeol flew over to his bed and landed at the foot. It reminded him of Seteal and the bed she'd used at El-i-miir's house. That in turn reminded him of El-i-miir. How he missed her! He'd reluctantly come to accept that their abandonment of him had been intentional. They thought he'd been causing too much trouble, that he was too evil. Or perhaps they just hadn't been very good friends because nothing bad ever happened to anyone on Jenjol. Not because of Seeol anyway. He'd loved his friends, but they'd cut him to the heart with such betrayal. And it wasn't just them. As soon as he'd released Briel and Fes, they too had taken to avoiding him as much as possible.

'Holy Spirit.' Ieane's voice cut through his maroon curtained door. 'It is time.'

'Already?' Seeol glanced at the mind-boggling symbols on the clock-face across the room. 'Am coming,' he replied, flying to the small doorway and landing before using his beak to nuzzle through. He leapt onto Ieane's gloved hand and she immediately proceeded along the dark corridor. 'Did they find them all?'

'The food you asked for?'

'Yes,' Seeol hissed excitedly.

'They were able to gather several red beetles and the green lizard you described,' Ieane's voice wavered nervously, 'but we couldn't find the flighted yellow insects.'

'The green lizard,' Seeol gushed ecstatically. 'It's my favourite. And they are very sneaky and hard to catch.'

'You're not mad?' Ieane asked.

'Why would?'

'Because we couldn't find the yellow insects.'

'Why would I be mad?' Seeol shook his head. 'You got me yummy treats!'

'You are truly merciful.' Ieane's voice was filled with awe.

'Will you coming to dinner?' Seeol enquired, made nervous by the idea of attending Far-a-mael's imposing company without a friend.

'I will be there to serve you, my Lord,' Ieane stepped through an arched doorway to make her way across the courtyard.

'Holy Spirit,' Phil Yas called, sprinting across the courtyard, his face covered in sweat. 'Come quickly.'

Seeol leapt from Ieane's fingers and followed after the man. 'What is it?' He enquired, landing on the Phil's arm. 'Is everything okay?'

'I'm afraid not,' he replied. 'We found Elglair spies in the woods. 'Far-a-mael is not to be trusted.'

'You're telling me?' Seeol made an attempt at humour. 'Where is they now?'

'I left them with my soldiers,' Phil said reassuringly. 'They'll be showing the ladies a good time. I can assure you of that,' he finished with a wink.

'Ladies? Good time?' Seeol was confused. Why would Phil's men be having a fun time with the enemy? 'Oh no!' Seeol screeched upon the realisation of what Phil was implying. 'You is hurting them.'

Leaping from Phil's arm, Seeol flashed over the wall and through the city streets. He reached the woods, his wings aching as he beat them ever harder to weave between branches and duck around trees. Lead by the sounds of wicked male laugher, Seeol arrived at a patch of woods where two bodies laid sprawled on the grass. The men leant over their painfully familiar captives like predators guarding their prey.

'I'll take the Elglair,' one of the men chuckled. 'You take the brunette.'

'Please,' El-i-miir squeaked, 'don't do this.' Her eyes were blindfolded.

'Not a problem,' the man replied to his friend, ignoring El-i-miir to lean over Seteal, struggling with his belt all the while. 'I've been in service so long I couldn't have cared less if you'd given me a dog to fuck.' Seteal was unconscious. Seteal was unconscious!

'Stop!' Seeol cried, tumbling and skidding to a stop in the leaf-litter. 'Not her,' he shrieked. But it was too late and the world sank into deathly silence, the distant wind whispering its sinister tune. An invisible force tore the man away from the earth and sent him screaming into the sky. The soldier's journey peaked when he was no more than a speck in the distance.

The second soldier yelped and leapt away from El-i-miir, but his fate could not find redemption. He stumbled backward and struck a tree, his eyes flickering as his soul was extinguished. The body hit the ground, an empty vessel without pants.

'Oh, Seteal,' Seeol called out in dismay. He knew well why the men had met such a cruel completion to their lives. He didn't feel for them--they'd attempted such a rotten act--but he feared for Seteal. She'd become so effortlessly capable of murder. She was becoming increasingly detached from right and wrong, and Seeol feared she'd be unable to find her way back. How many lives had she taken? There were at least three Seeol knew of. 'My Lord!' Phil Yas burst into the clearing, panting and leaning heavily on his knees. 'What happened?'

'You must leave.' Seeol narrowed his eyes furiously. 'If ever this happens again by a man he must leave. You must leave!'

'You're shunning me?' Phil spluttered. 'But I didn't do anything.'

'Correct.' Seeol glared. 'You knew what these bad men were doings and you didn't do anything. Never return.'

'But--'

'Never,' Seeol hissed. The trees surrounding him moaned as the wind picked up. Phil backed away as clouds gathered and the woods were bathed in darkness. A wolf howled somewhere nearby. Phil hurried in the opposite direction.

'Seeol?' El-i-miir asked wearily.

'You are safe now, sweetie.' Seeol pulled back her blindfold and rubbed his beak over her cheek. 'You are so safety with me.' Seeol parted his mandibles and micked the clicking sound of a human kiss.

*

Far-a-mael strutted through the streets of Veret with as much pomp as he could muster while limping. He wasn't doing so because of pain. In fact, he didn't even feel pain anymore. Rather, he limped for the simple fact that his left big toe had fallen off. Truth was, the whole affair had been rather unsettling. All the same, he'd never thought that the day would come he'd be strolling so freely through the heart of Jenjol's capitol city.

The faces of commoners were ones of disgust. They'd been ordered under threat of execution not to lay a finger on the visiting Elglair, but that didn't stop them from cursing the cohort as they passed. Such awful people. Far-a-mael had only ever met one Jenjen whom as a child he'd called a friend, but that was a very long time ago.

'There it is,' Far-a-mael said to his cohort of gil'hadoans as they approached the palace walls and the buildings that lay beyond. They would test the Ways through various methods and see if anything was amiss. The gates had been opened in time for the Elglair's arrival. Far-a-mael strode through the arching entrance and approached the guards.

'Name?' one of them enquired.

'You know who I am,' Far-a-mael retorted.

'Of course, War Elder Far-a-mael,' the guard sneered. 'Follow me. King Harundor awaits your presence in the great hall.'

The great hall was a bubble of noise. Officials and nobles danced with their wives . . . or other men's wives. Young men roved about the floor casting devilish glances at young women's cleavage none too subtly as they collected fresh glasses from platters. Music was played by several musicians, whilst hired dancers twirled and waved their arms to a traditional Jenjen rhythm. An exorbitant banquet had been provided in the centre of the room atop a long table at which the king was seated.

As Far-a-mael entered, the music stopped and the king rose to his feet. The two stared each other down for a prolonged moment, during which not a word was spoken amongst the impressive crowd.

'Well?' The king turned to his people. 'Let us make our guest, War Elder Far-a-mael of the Unified Cleffs, and his associates, welcome!' He waved his goblet through the air and the frivolity reignited.

'Spread out.' Far-a-mael turned to his men. 'Mingle, but maintain your senses. And for Maker's sake, don't drink.'

'Come, Far-a-mael,' Braihon Harundor waved him over like they were old comrades. 'Sit.' He patted the elaborate chair beside him. 'Eat.' This was a man of few syllables.

'King Harundor.' Far-a-mael nodded as he approached and took the seat indicated. 'It is good to meet you in person.'

'Indeed.' Harundor took a bite out of a chicken leg. His hands and beard were wet with grease and his face was red from too much wine. 'Have you thought any further of my proposition?'

'I will agree to an alliance with you,' Far-a-mael intoned. 'But I do have some conditions.'

'And those are?' Harundor chuckled as a dancer passed by his vision shaking her rather rotund backside.

'You will send every able-bodied man in the city and order Ignish to do the same,' Far-a-mael replied. 'And when I speak of men, I mean to say anyone up from the age of sixteen.'

'You are as arrogant as they say.' Harundor laughed. 'I accept!' He shook Far-a-mael's hand. 'Even I shall come along on this great and unparalleled adventure.'

'Really?' Far-a-mael could not help but show his surprise. Convincing the king to abandon his kingdom had been all too easy. Perhaps it was a trick.

'Of course.' The king laughed. 'We have the Holy Spirit of Maker by our side. With His blessing, we cannot fail. He is here to protect us, guide us, and bring us salvation. The victory over Old World is already ours. We need only reach out and take it.'

'I should very much like to meet this Holy Spirit of yours.' Far-a-mael chuckled at the man's foolishness, while he remained more than willing to benefit from it. 'He sounds like an interesting fellow.'

'Oh, He is,' the king said mysteriously. 'You'll see that for yourself. He's been caught up with some unpleasant business, but shouldn't be too much longer.'

'Very well.' Far-a-mael analysed the delicious foods before him, but resisted filling a plate. He hadn't had a bowel movement in two weeks and suspected that if he partook, the food might remain in him forever.

'Are you all right?' Harundor leaned in close to sniff the air surrounding Far-a-mael.

'Get a hold of yourself,' Far-a-mael snapped, but the king had already leapt excitedly to his feet.

'Here He is.' Harundor clapped his hands together, causing the grease coating his hands to flick into Far-a-mael's beard.

'The child?' Far-a-mael squinted through blurred vision as a red-headed girl entered regally. She was holding something, but Far-a-mael couldn't make out what.

'Of course not the child,' the king replied distractedly. 'Holy Spirit.' The old man waved his hand about like an excited school boy. 'I've arranged you a place beside mine.'

'Beside yours?' Far-a-mael muttered. There were no other chairs available. The table beside the king was decorated only by a goblet of red wine and a covered platter. 'Where's he supposed to sit--on the table?' Far-a-mael enquired.

'Of course,' Harundor replied as Far-a-mael turned to find the girl standing before them. His eyes travelled down the length of her arm and over a golden glove on which a very familiar figure was perched.

'You must be joking.' Far-a-mael couldn't help but chuckle. 'This is your Holy Spirit?'

'Yes.' Seeol bobbed his head. 'I'm this Holy Spirit.'

'I can see that,' Far-a-mael wheezed out before bursting into a fit of laughter. He paused momentarily upon the sound of something snapping in his chest, but then continued as before.

'Is something the matter?' Harundor narrowed his eyes at Far-a-mael's soggy green flesh.

'No,' Far-a-mael wheezed out, his laughter escaping in uncontrollable bursts. 'I'm fine,' he choked out, wiping brown tears from his eyes.

'What's happened to yours face?' Seeol tilted his head in curiosity, before shaking it in frustration and changing the topic before Far-a-mael could even open his mouth. 'There's no time,' Seeol urged. 'Seteal won't wake up.'

'Seteal's here?' Far-a-mael stood up from the table.

'Following me.' Seeol fluttered across the room.

*

'What happened?' Far-a-mael burst into the dark chamber and located El-i-miir immediately. 'You! What have you done this time, you stupid child?'

'I don't know,' El-i-miir gaped disbelievingly. 'We were attacked in the woods. I was blindfolded, which made it near impossible to see what I was doing. I tried sending out affiliation several times, but I couldn't properly link to the men's auras. I think Seteal must have projected.'

'And she hasn't returned,' Far-a-mael stated gloomily.

'No,' El-i-miir said. 'Her aura's gone, so I know she's not just unconsciousness. Gil'rei Far-a-mael,' El-i-miir bit her lip, recognising her mistake in addressing him as such. 'She can sever people from the Ways.'

'Maker only knows what her limits might be.' Far-a-mael shook his head.

El-i-miir peered through the dark. 'What happened to you?'

'It's not important.' Far-a-mael waved his hand dismissively, his thumbnail flying off as he did so. 'We have to focus on drawing Seteal back into her body before she is permanently lost.'

'Please help her.' Seeol paced anxiously back and forth across the carpet.

'What a lovely little reunion,' Far-a-mael murmured as he delved into the Ways. 'Since we're having a party, where's the demon?'

'It's gone.' El-i-miir felt a lump forming in her throat. 'I came to my senses and killed it.'

'You really must take me for a fool, child,' Far-a-mael chuckled. 'It doesn't matter what lies you concoct. You will never be allowed back home, especially since you've disgraced your parents for failing to die honourably in Vish'el'Tei.'

'Please,' El-i-miir said shakily. 'I have nothing left. Ilgrin will never come back, not after what I said to him.'

'That's not my problem,' Far-a-mael snorted. 'Now shut up and let me focus on one silly little girl at a time. What have you done, Seteal?' His voice became strangely empathetic. It was a tone El-i-miir hadn't been used to hearing from Far-a-mael. 'Where is it?'

El-i-miir remained silent, but she knew what Far-a-mael was looking for. She too had searched for it. Seteal's aura was gone. That much was obvious, but there should have been a slight residue remaining, something by which she could be dragged back. El-i-miir had found nothing, which made no sense as long as Seteal continued to breathe.

'There,' Far-a-mael whispered. El-i-miir admired the old man's skill when he quickly located a slender strand of Seteal's being. It was buried in shadow, but still there. 'My Maker,' Far-a-mael gasped.

Seeol looked up. 'What is it, my child?'

'Not you,' Far-a-mael grumbled, his eyes focused on the slithering strands of energy that flowed confusingly about the room. 'She's frayed worse than anything I've seen before... and there's two of her. No . . . I mean she's . . . did you know about this?' Far-a-mael turned sharply toward El-i-miir. 'She's pregnant.'

'I know.' El-i-miir squirmed beneath his glare. 'But that doesn't explain why she's so badly frayed?'

'What a mess,' Far-a-mael grumbled, leaning over Seteal. 'She no longer wishes to be here. Whether she acknowledges it or not, Seteal herself is the only reason she cannot return. She has lost the will to live. She is rejecting the Ways and as a result the Ways are releasing her.'

'But plenty of people lose their will to live.' El-i-miir frowned. 'They don't just die.'

'That's different,' Far-a-mael lectured. 'Regular people are bound here by their bodies. Without one, Seteal's only connection to the Ways is her will to remain amongst them.'

'What can we do?' El-i-miir put a hand to her mouth, refusing to accept that Seteal might be lost forever.

'I've knotted what remains as tightly as I dare,' Far-a-mael said grimly. 'That should slow the process, but unless Seteal can find a reason to fight, it will not keep her here for long. Tell me, is she here now?'

'No.' El-i-miir shook her head. 'I mean to say, I cannot feel her presence.'

'If you do,' Far-a-mael replied. 'I advise you to remind her of her reasons to live. Other than that, I'm afraid there is little we can do.'

*

Silt corpses decorated in dark blue uniforms hung from the trees or were sprawled out in the dirt. The moon was high and the night was black. A bird pecked at one of the corpse's flesh, enjoying the freely available feast.

She had murdered them all. Her body was somewhere. It didn't matter. It didn't matter. Cold white memories plunged her into insanity. Seteal had been a child . . . just a child. Torn across the world, her innocence had been stolen, her confidence shattered. She'd tried for some time to re-enter the body. It'd been impossible. She no longer felt her own heartbeat. The body belonged to someone else, somewhere else, far away waiting to die. What was that? Something touched the cheek.

Twisting sideways, Seteal vanished through space, coming to exist within a dark chamber. Lanterns cast eerie shadows across the walls. It was late and the chamber was empty, but for the silently breathing body that'd once belonged to her with an elf owl perched atop its pillow. Again Seeol touched the woman's cheek as he replicated a sound resembling a kiss.

'Is my friend,' the little bird whispered in her ear. 'Is my best friendly and I love you because you are fun and played with me and cuddled me. Is going to live and have fun days with lots of friends. Yes, you is going to have a little baby and I will help you be friends with it. I will help teach that silly baby to read and to talk with you. Oh, we'll have such fun.' The bird's eyes remained expressionless, but his overall demeanour revealed deep concern. 'I need you, Seteal.' Seeol's voice softened. 'This one needs you too.' He glanced at her swollen belly. 'Is always reasons to stay. Please . . . please don't die. If there's nothing else, I will always be your bestest friend.'

Seteal's soul quivered with emotion. Of course, Seeol didn't know what he was saying. He was only a little bird. He couldn't possibly feel such depth of emotion. Nevertheless, what he'd said about Seteal's unborn child formed a solid lump of will within.

She cringed as she watched the Ways' warm golden meshwork wriggling invitingly. Frayed strands that hung partially detached snaked toward the canvas to bury themselves like worms into wet soil. They knotted themselves together, reattaching Seteal to reality. She opened her eyes, bitter with regret as she basked beneath the suffocating stench of a poisoned body that she hated.

'Seteal!' Seeol's exited voice filled her ears.

She sat up. When had she started crying? 'Seeol,' she replied. 'Thank you.'

Seeol's golden eyes bored into Seteal's. 'You stay forever.' His voice was flat, but purposeful. 'Don't leave me all alone.'

'I won't.' Seteal rested a hand on her stomach. 'I won't leave you,' she whispered to the child within.

El-i-miir burst into the room. 'You're back! Oh, thank Maker.' She raced over to hug Seteal. 'Oh . . . Seeol. I need to talk to Seteal for a minute.'

'Okay.' Seeol nodded, but didn't move.

'Alone.' El-i-miir raised her eyebrows.

'Yes.' Seeol bobbed his head, but again remained in place.

'She's asking you to leave,' Seteal said gently.

'Oh,' Seeol replied dejectedly before buzzing out of the room.

'Sit down.' Seteal patted the bed spread invitingly, but once she had done so she simply stared at the wall. 'I know what you did.'

'What?'

'Ilgrin.'

'Oh that,' El-i-miir stifled a sob. 'I don't want to talk about it. I'm just glad you're okay.'

'I'm just a little confused.' Seteal shrugged. 'I thought you said that making him hate you wouldn't work.'

'I don't know anymore.' El-i-miir sighed. 'I had to try something, didn't I? If he's going to die for me, the best thing I can do for him is to keep him as far away from me as possible.'

'I guess.' Seteal frowned.

'Far-a-mael is here,' El-i-miir said after a moment's hesitation.

'I know,' Seteal murmured. 'I saw him while projecting.'

'We should get out of here.'

'No,' Seteal said, barely above a whisper. 'I've been given a chance. I'm going to take it.'

'Surely you weren't serious when you said you were going to kill Far-a-mael,' El-i-miir stated with wide eyes. 'There's been enough killing, Seteal.'

'He did this to me,' she hissed. 'All of this is because of him.'

'I hope you'll reconsider.' El-i-miir sniffed. 'What you're suggesting isn't killing in the heat of battle. It's planned. It's murder.'

'I know.'

'Seteal!' El-i-miir snapped. 'He's too strong. You cannot defeat him.'

'I'll wait,' Seteal replied. 'Sooner or later, he'll let his guard down and I'll strike.'

'Stop it!' El-i-miir cried. 'Just stop it! You're not a murderer.'

'You don't know what I'm capable of.' Seteal's voice was eerily calm.

'Far-a-mael doesn't want to hurt you, Seteal,' El-i-miir pleaded. 'He lied to get you to the Frozen Lands and he's done plenty of horrible things, but that's only to accomplish his goals. He never meant you any deliberate harm. If you need someone to blame, blame life and circumstance. Blame Master Fasil--but wait, you can't blame him because he's dead. Far-a-mael killed him for you. Remember?'

'Get out,' Seteal said coldly. 'I will not have that name spoken in my presence.'

'Look.' El-i-miir sighed. 'I'm sorry.'

'Get out.'

'Seteal. I'm sorry.'

'Get out!' Seteal shouted. Thunder rumbled outside, the room vibrated and the candles went out. The bed slid several handswidths toward the door, books flew from a shelf, and a chair sailed across the room to splinter against the far wall. El-i-miir left the room in a rush.

'Thank Maker for that.' Master Fasil smiled from his place beside Seteal. 'I was beginning to think she would never leave.'
CHAPTER ELEVEN

YOUR PEOPLE

Seeol entered his private dining room riding on Ieane's golden-gloved hand. Seteal and El-i-miir sat at a splendidly carved table with Briel and Fes placed opposite. Seeol had invited all of his closest friends, feeling that he owed them an explanation as to the events that had recently transpired. It was equally as important that he got some answers of his own.

'Please join us, Ieane,' Seeol said as the girl entered and placed Seeol at the head of the table.

'It wouldn't be appropriate.'

'Sit, Ieane.' Seeol gestured toward an empty seat at the other end of the table.

'I couldn't.' The girl flushed red. 'I'm your humble servant. It's not my place to dine with you.'

'You is are my friend.' Seeol repeated the gesture with his toe. 'Join us pleasingly.'

'I'm . . . your friend? Thank you, Holy Spirit,' Ieane sat down and immediately started fidgeting.

It had only been the preceding night that Seteal made it back into her body. She'd seemed tired and Seeol felt it was fitting to give her time to rest. He'd arranged rooms for all of his friends along with an invitation to join him for a private meal the following evening. He'd likewise sent out invitations to Briel and Fes, who'd been trading in the area. Far-a-mael, too, had been invited, but with the alliance having already been formalised, he'd declined, claiming to be too busy.

'I'm just going to say it.' As expected, it did not take Seteal long to cut through the silence and ruin the mood. 'What the torrid is going on here?' she said abrasively, her eyes moving over Ieane's subordinate posture with contempt.

'Seeol--as you call him--is the Holy Spirit, the Hand of Maker,' Ieane said proudly.

'You're not a holy anything,' Seteal directed at Seeol, feeling embarrassed for the Jenjen in their foolishness.

'Why did you leave me?' He locked eyes on El-i-miir. The long black hair tumbling over her shoulders, framing her exquisite features, took his breath away. She was more beautiful than he'd remembered and her betrayal hurt his heart the most. He'd expect such a thing from Seteal. She was hot-headed and did whatever she had to do to survive. He'd even have expected it from Ilgrin, as they'd never really been as close as the others. But El-i-miir was supposed to be the nice one. 'I was scared,' Seeol growled.

'I'm sorry, Seeol.' El-i-miir failed to hold his gaze. 'You were becoming too dangerous.'

'Nothing badness ever happened to the Jenjenjen,' Seeol spat. 'They love me and only friendly things ever happen. Maybe if you'd petted me more, nothing bad would ever happen. You're mean to me.'

'They've upset You!' Ieane pounced to her feet. 'Shall I arrange their execution, Holy Father?'

'No!' Seeol stared at the girl in bewilderment. 'All I ever want is love. You all have love and can't do anything but kill each other.'

'Listen, Seeol.' Seteal put her hands flat on the table. 'You're just going to have to get over this. We did what we had to do to survive. You were holding us back.'

'What about my survivals?' Seeol lowered his voice, the pain he felt becoming too much to bear. If he'd have had tear ducts, it would be very likely that he'd be crying. 'I'd never have lefted you that way. I'd have fought to the end, because that's what friends do.'

'Seeol,' El-i-miir said with an expression lacking empathy. 'You have to understand. It's different with you.'

'Why?' Seeol croaked, his heart racing.

'Well . . . we can't really be friends, can we?' El-i-miir's patient tone was forced. 'You're . . . just a bird.'

'How dare you?' Ieane stood up and slammed her hands against the table.

'Oh, come on.' El-i-miir rolled her eyes at the girl. 'It's not like he's got real feelings. It's mostly just mimicry.'

Seeol stared at El-i-miir and then Seteal and then back again. He looked over at Fes and Briel, both of whom seemed impartial to what had taken place. He couldn't find the words to say. He was frozen. To them, no matter what he did or said, Seeol would always be less than human.

'My Lord is truly merciful to not have smote these blasphemers on the spot,' Ieane's voice shook with emotion, 'but I won't sit here and listen to such heresy.'

'Little girl,' Seteal raised her eyebrows. 'Seeol isn't your Holy Sprit. He's just a whisp-mutated elf owl.'

'I am the Spirit!' Seeol shrieked furiously. Seteal had abandoned him. She'd left him for dead and now she wanted to destroy his new home, too. It wasn't enough to shatter their friendship. She needed to see him miserable. 'These are my people now!'

'Your people?' El-i-miir said in bewilderment. 'What you're doing here is just plain wrong. You've manipulated these people into following you. They think that you're Maker, for Maker's sake.'

'I am Maker's spririt!' Seeol shouted bitterly. 'And I does doing done prove it!' He leapt from the table and flew across the room to land aggressively atop his bookshelf. There he grabbed the Devil's Stone and peered into El-i-miir's eyes, eyes filled with derision. As long as he was an owl, she would never see him as anything but.

Darkness sprung from the stone as Seeol visualised the humans below him. He would make her see him as an equal. He would make her see him as a man.

*

A book fell from the shelf and hit the ground with a thud as Seeol scratched about on top.

'What are you doing?' Seteal sighed impatiently. 'Come back down and we'll talk.'

'No,' Seeol snapped, his voice unusually deep.

Having become the size of a small chicken, Seeol tumbled backward, a ball of feathers whose wings were unable to keep him aloft.

'Seteal!' Fes cried. 'He be changin'!' She leapt away from the table.

'It's impossible,' Seteal gasped. 'I stopped that.'

Seeol screamed. The sound was a twist between that of an animal and a human. The room filled with alarmed guards who could do nothing but watch in horror as Seeol's face rippled in agony, his facial muscles becoming increasingly able to show such an expression. His wings cracked forward and human fingers sprouted from the ends. Seteal yelped and pushed herself back against the wall as Seeol's beak melted into lips and a nose dug its way out of his face. As his proportions increased, Seeol's feathers re-sheathed and sank back into his body. Rich brown hair sprouted from his scalp and a moment later Seteal found herself staring at a young man curled up naked on the floor.

'Seeol?'

'It's a miracle!' Ieane clapped her hands together. 'If you cannot see the truth now, you must be as blind to the light as the Devil himself.'

'Seeol,' Briel said quietly. 'What've ye done?'

'Issssh.' Seeol rolled over, to reveal a young and unexpectedly handsome face. The only feature remaining of his previous self was the colour in his bright golden eyes. 'Sprisssst.' He tried to speak but couldn't figure out how to work his lips and tongue to do so. He tried to snatch at his face with his toes whilst beating his arms against the floorboards.

'Someone had better be gettin' some clothes on him.' Fes turned away. 'It nah be decent.'

'I'll arrange some immediately.' Ieane raced out of the room.

'Some privacy, ladies.' Briel inclined his head toward Seeol. Seteal and El-i-miir joined Fes in looking away until Ieane returned.

'I'll be puttin' some clothes on ye now, son,' Briel said, for the benefit of the guards as much as the young man. In response, Seeol howled so fearfully that Seteal felt compelled to turn around.

Briel wrestled with Seeol's arm in an attempt to get it into a sleeve, but the boy kept shrieking and pulling his hand away.

'He doesn't like people touching his wings,' Seteal said, approaching slowly and kneeling beside him. 'If you're going to be human, you have to wear clothes. Do you understand?' she asked, making sure to keep her eyes locked firmly on his.

'Yessh.' Seeol bobbed his head, which looked rather odd for a human.

'I know it's scary,' Seteal soothed, 'but you have to trust me.' She touched Seeol's hand, her eyes running over his soft, warm skin. He pulled weakly, but Seteal tightened her grip. 'I won't hurt you.' She slid the sleeve over his arm, before proceeding with the other. 'Briel will help you with your pants, okay? You have to let him.'

Seeol bobbed his head, but struggled against Briel nevertheless. Seteal took his hand and averted her eyes as Briel put the pants on. 'Shoes?' Briel asked.

'I think that's enough for now.' Seteal bit her lip. 'We'll get him used to this first.'

Seeol twitched his head to the side and started pulling at the shirt with his teeth. He stood up, but immediately fell over without even using his hands to soften the blow, instead just flapping them out to the side. The bird-man moaned in pain and waved his arms up and down to no avail.

'Hept.' The young man's face showed an expression of horror.

'Try to use this,' El-i-miir said as she approached. She pointed at her tongue. 'You have to learn to form words in a different way. Use your tongue.'

'Isss sad,' Seeol finally managed after several minutes of trying. He rose to his feet, gripping the wall for support. There Seeol stood before Seteal and the others, a broad-shouldered and decidedly handsome young man. His face was youthful, giving Seteal the impression of a boy no older than the age of seventeen.

'Yoooush shee? Ish am the Holllsy Spirrit!'

Dan-i-el 7

7. After this I saw in the night visions, and behold, a mighty beast, dreadful and terrible, and strong exceedingly: and it had a great iron beak. It devoured, and broke into pieces, and stamped the residue with the feet of it: and it was diverse from all the beasts to exist before it, and it had two great wings.

8. I considered the wings, and behold, they disappeared, becoming little wings. And behold, the beast became a little beast with golden eyes and a beak that spoke blasphemous things.

9. I considered the blasphemous things, and behold there was a man of exquisite beauty beholding the Sa'Tanic eyes of his soul.

Scriptures of the Holy Tome

CHAPTER TWELVE

SA'TANIST

Ilgrin flared his wings and swooped low through the trees decorating the mountains in the southernmost parts of Kilk. The sun would soon be rising and he couldn't risk being seen. If that hadn't been reason enough, he was also exhausted. Ilgrin had long since lost count of the days since his departure from El-i-miir in the woods.

Leaving the women alone had been a dangerous choice. He felt bad for that, but hadn't exactly been thinking clearly at the time. Besides, he'd witnessed Seteal single-handedly kill upward of six silts without lifting a finger. Along with El-i-miir's powers of affiliation, Ilgrin was certain they'd be able to take care of themselves. Flaring his wings and thrusting forward his feet, Ilgrin slowed to land on a solid branch. It was difficult sleeping so exposed in broad daylight, but he really didn't have much of a choice. Anyway, he doubted people would find him this far up in the mountains.

As the sun began to rise and Ilgrin felt his eyelids growing heavy, he was struck by a sense of awe as he gazed out toward the south. There, in the distant sky, radiated a darkness that no amount of daylight could cure. The mountaintops plunged into pitch-black clouds that stretched endlessly into the distant horizon. The clouds were unlike any Ilgrin had seen in New World. They squirmed about each other as though a violent wind pushed each on a private path its own. Occasionally, purple streaks of lightning hit the earth or filled the clouds, but instead of vanishing a moment later, they lingered, squirming and whipping about before disappearing.

Ilgrin realised he was glimpsing the skies of Old World and that the darkness above was not due to bad weather. Rather, as far as the eye could see, the entire sky was blotted out by whisp pollution.

'What have we done?' Ilgrin whispered, alarmed by the deathly brooding power hovering above the world. The damage one whisp could do was unthinkable. Should these ones all decide to fall at once, there was no telling what they might be capable of. While Ilgrin stood in respectful fear of that which stood before him, he also found himself becoming increasingly excited. Soon he would discover why Gez-reil had thought his return to Old World so important. And he would learn the truth about his kind.

'You've destroyed the world,' an elderly voice replied to the question Ilgrin had voiced aloud to nobody.

Ilgrin's attention snapped toward the ground where an old man stood, an arrow pointed up at him. He pulled back on the bow string. Ilgrin gaped and flared his wings, blood pumping in his ears and his heart thumping in his chest. He tensed his knees. An explosion echoed. The arrow flew wide and the old man hit the earth, a bloody wound blooming from his chest.

'Maker!' Ilgrin gasped, leaping from the tree to lean over the man. 'Are you okay?'

'You . . .' he wheezed. 'You will never replace your father.'

'My father?' Ilgrin repeated in confusion.

'Father!' a second voice cried. Ilgrin glanced up to see a slender young man with curly blond hair racing toward them, a pistol in hand. 'It's okay, Father.' He pushed Ilgrin aside and leaned over the man, kissing his forehead softly as his eyes began to close. 'It's over now.'

'I don't understand,' the man sobbed. 'My own son . . . why, Jakob?'

'It's better this way.' Jakob smiled and moved a hand through his father's hair. 'It had to be done.'

'Traitor.' The old man gurgled his final word before his head fell back into the mud.

'Quickly.' Jakob leapt to his feet. 'He's alerted the others. They'll be coming.'

'You killed your own father,' Ilgrin said in horror.

'He was a bastard anyway.' Jakob shrugged. 'Come on.' He began to hurry through the woods only to stop when Ilgrin didn't follow. 'Come on,' he repeated, pointing at the sky.

A glance through the canopy revealed several silts swooping about in search for him. 'Torrid,' Ilgrin growled in frustration as he hurried after the strange man.

Jakob became an occasional glimpse or flash of movement as shrubs and small trees were pushed this way and that up ahead. The man was very fast and made good use of feet designed to run rather than perch.

'Quickly,' he urged yet again, nervously glancing up at the sky.

Ilgrin bashed through the thick foliage before, quite without warning, spilling into a small clearing in which a quaint little cottage sat with soft smoke bubbling from its chimney. Jakob waved Ilgrin over, barged through the front door, and disappeared inside. Having been freed from the dense forest, Ilgrin beat his wings several times and landed at the door a moment later. Before entering, he caught a glimpse of the sky. A uniformed silt locked eyes on him and shouted something, but a moment later Ilgrin was stumbling through a dark and musty home. A trumpet blew outside. Ilgrin could only assume it was meant to draw attention to that spot.

'Hurry up,' Jakob urged from somewhere within the dark recesses of the cottage. 'They'll be coming. One of them has seen you. They know you're here.'

'Who are you!?' Ilgrin shouted as he hurried through the dark front room. The home was scarcely decorated. There was a dusty old lounge against one wall, and the bedrooms he passed had naught but blankets on the floor to serve as bedding.

When Ilgrin reached the back room, he found Jakob rushing about with a large tin can he was using to splash a pungent smelling liquid across the walls and floor.

'Move that bookshelf,' the strange man ordered.

'Which one?' Ilgrin glanced about the room.

'The only one in here,' Jakob barked. 'Are you slow or something?'

'Um . . . okay.' Ilgrin moved over to the bookshelf and picked it up, moving it cautiously so as not to drop any of its contents.

'Oh, for Maker's sake.' Jakob slapped a hand over the back of the shelf and pushed it over to reveal a dark brickwork tunnel. 'Here.' He passed a torch to Ilgrin before lighting another for himself and heading into the tunnel.

'This ought to keep them busy,' Jakob muttered before he tossed a glass jar across the room so that it shattered in the fireplace. Ilgrin's skin burned as it ignited and flames rushed about the room. 'This way,' Jakob urged, already racing along the passageway.

The tunnel came to completion some distance away, Ilgrin guessed on the opposite side of the small hill that the cottage had been backed up against. Despite having lost their tail, Jakob continued relentlessly at the same pace as before through the dense forest. Tiny silt shadows swooped this way and that, but for now they were getting by unnoticed. Ilgrin took the opportunity to get some answers. He clamped a hand over Jakob's shoulder and forced him up against a tree.

'Who are you?' Ilgrin barked. 'Why should I trust you?'

'Why wouldn't you?' Jakob glared angrily. 'My father was going to kill you and so are they.' He pointed wildly at the sky. 'I'm the only one not sticking a weapon in your face.

'I can't trust you anyway!' Ilgrin cried. 'You killed your own father. What kind of monster are you?'

'Watch it,' Jakob hissed and Ilgrin felt a cold blade touch his throat. 'Ever heard of what silver does to flesh.'

'No.' Ilgrin yanked back his head.

'Not even you can heal damage done by silver.' Jakob eased away the blade, but maintained a threatening disposition.

'Fine,' Ilgrin muttered, allowing the man to stand freely. He put a hand against his neck and pulled it away to find a smear of dark blue blood. As he did so, a horn sounded from somewhere close by.

'You idiot!' Jakob spat. 'They've found us again. Maybe they were right in wanting to kill you off.' He rolled his eyes. 'Quickly. This way.'

Ilgrin hurried after the man, his heart racing at the thought of being caught. He'd been a prisoner before and wouldn't stand to go through it again.

Long shadows and the sound of beating wings told Ilgrin the silt soldiers were closing in. The air gushed. Steel talons clamped around Jakob's arm, but before he could be lifted more than a stride into the air, the man thrust his knife into the silt's leg. The soldier cried out in pain and was forced to dive back into the sky to avoid an upcoming row of trees.

A second pursuer hit Ilgrin and the two tumbled head over heels through the foliage.

'What do you want from me!?' Ilgrin shouted as the soldier swung his scythe.

The silt ignored him and continued to flail his weapon. Ilgrin instinctively raised his arms. The silt's eyes rolled back and he fell forward in death. Jakob stood behind him, his silver knife painted blue with blood.

'Do you trust me yet?' Jakob asked sarcastically.

Instead of wasting his energy in replying, Ilgrin chose to focus on escaping.

'In here,' Jakob hissed after a short period of running. Ilgrin followed the man behind a mass of boulders and into the dark interior of a musty cave. The space was lit by lanterns, but Jakob handed Ilgrin a fresh torch nevertheless.

'We'll be safe for now,' he whispered. 'Silts hate spending time on the ground and it's impossible to see this place from above. Anyway--' The man bent over, panting for breath. 'Formally, I'm Jakob Fyne.' He reached out to shake Ilgrin's hand.

He shook it. 'Ilgrin Geld.'

'So that's what they decided to call you, is it?' Jakob chuckled and made his way deeper into the cave. 'I'll stick with your real name, if that's okay with you. I've gotten used to hearing it.'

'My real name?' Ilgrin followed the man with renewed interest.

'Oh, yeah.' Jakob's face split into a broad smile and it occurred to Ilgrin that the man was thoroughly enjoying teasing him. 'I forgot that you probably don't even know your own name, do you, Enoch?'

'Enoch?' Ilgrin tested the unfamiliar word. 'What a strange name. Is that my surname or given?'

'Demons don't have surnames.' Jakob laughed. 'Well, they sort of do, I suppose, but it's the other way around. Your full name is Sa'Enoch. Sa being what you would call your family name.'

'Why are you doing all this anyway?' Ilgrin asked suspiciously. 'You seem to be going to a lot of trouble for a silt.'

Jakob chuckled. 'You mean a demon.'

'Stop calling me that,' Ilgrin snapped, shoving Jakob up against the wall.

'Why not?' Jakob frowned. 'It's what you are. Oh . . . I see.' He laughed aloud. 'You thought that the word was just a defamatory term--an insult, if you will?'

'It is an insult,' Ilgrin said shakily, without much conviction.

'No, it's not.' Jakob cringed. 'It's simply what you are. You can ask any silt you want. Almost all of them will freely admit to being demons.'

'It's not a derogatory term?' Ilgrin swallowed, feeling sick to his stomach.

'Well . . . people north of here probably use it so.' Jakob shrugged. 'But no, it's not. You're a demon. Why do you care, anyway? It's just a word.'

'It's not just a word,' Ilgrin said bitterly. 'It means that my kind blatantly accept what the Tome says about us: that we're monsters.'

'You are monsters.' Jakob put a hand on Ilgrin's shoulder and winked at him cheekily in the firelight.

'Wait,' Ilgrin said as they resumed their progress through the cave. 'You said almost all silts freely identify as demons. So . . . some of us aren't demons?'

'Smart boy.' Jakob laughed. 'Of course not all silts are demons, but all demons are silts.'

'Enough with the riddles,' Ilgrin said through gritted teeth.

'There are other silts,' Jakob admitted. 'They're called angels--horrible creatures for the most part. You really don't want to get involved with them. They're even worse than your lot.'

The firelight danced in such a way that Ilgrin caught a glimpse of something he hoped he hadn't seen on Jakob's arm. 'What's that?'

'Oh, this?' Jakob lifted his arm so that the silt wing tattoo could be plainly seen.

'You're a demon worshipper,' Ilgrin choked out, his eyes fixed on the man's tattoo.

'That's what they're calling us now, are they?' Jakob laughed. 'I'm a Sa'Tanist, yes.'

'Sa'Tan,' Ilgrin said the name of the very first Devil slowly. 'I'm Sa'Enoch.'

'That's right,' Jakob smiled.

'Please don't say that . . .'

'That name is the reason why everyone wants you dead. You're the last in the original Devil's lineage.'

'I think I have to sit down,' Ilgrin said scarcely above a whisper, his mouth having become dry. He leaned clumsily against the wall and wiped clammy hands over his pants.

'For a Devil, you're kind of pathetic.' Jakob shook his head in disapproval.

'I am,' Ilgrin choked out, 'the Devil?'

'That's right,' the man confirmed. 'And I'm going to help you get your throne back.'

'Why?' Ilgrin asked slowly, unable to wrap his mind around the fact that he was royalty by blood.

'Let's keep moving,' Jakob urged, before continuing. 'I'll start at the beginning and tell you all I know.'

'Please,' Ilgrin encouraged.

'It must be almost twenty-five years ago by now,' Jakob began. 'It would've been a few years before I was born. I know the story through my father and a few silts I'm associated with. Your father, Devil Sa'Abraham, died of a mysterious condition. It'd troubled him his entire life and one day his heart could take no more and gave out. Your mother, Sa'Sarah the She-Devil, was forced to rule Hel and all of Hades on her own. It was a difficult task. Seeing as though she was the only She-Devil to have ever gained the throne, very few people granted her the respect she deserved.'

'Why didn't she resurrect Sa'Abraham?' Ilgrin uttered.

'His condition was a birth defect,' Jakob replied. 'Much like old age, it cannot be healed properly. If he'd been resurrected, he'd have come back to life with the same condition and died again shortly thereafter. Resurrection only takes you back to the state you were in before death. It heals wounds, not scars.'

'So what about--?' Ilgrin was about to ask a question, only to be cut off by Jakob as he squinted deeper into the cave. There was an additional light source in the cavern up ahead.

Jakob mumbled something to himself and then continued the story. 'Weeks before Abraham's death, Sarah fell pregnant with you. Realising that pregnancy would serve to incapacitate her in her duties, Sarah selected her late husband's closest friend as an assistant,' Jakob paused, again peering into the distance. 'Du'Korah was a nobleman of no particular importance other than that the Devil had befriended him, but Sarah trusted him implicitly. By the time Sarah reached thirteen months--'

'Thirteen months!' Ilgrin gasped, cutting Jakob off.

'Forgive me,' Jakob laughed. 'It takes a bit longer to grow a demon than it does a human. Anyway, as I was saying, by the time Sarah had reached thirteen months and was due to give birth, she'd effectively handed over every possible legional responsibility to Korah. It wasn't until after she'd given birth that Sarah realised her mistake. The legion had come to see Korah as their Devil. All that was left was to make it official and so Korah ordered her assassination.

'Sarah had few allies left, but was fortunate enough to be forewarned by a close friend. She took you and fled to the only place in which you'd be safer than you would be anywhere in Old World: Abnatol. She knew that of all the places in New World, it was the least likely place you'd be killed at first sight. I think you know the rest.'

'They did pursue her, though,' Ilgrin uttered softly.

'Oh, yes.' Jakob nodded, as the cave became even lighter. Ilgrin was able to make out a brightly lit entrance up ahead. 'Korah knew that if either of you survived, you might one day come back to reclaim what was yours by right.'

'I don't understand.' Ilgrin shook his head. 'They caught up to us. They must have. Sarah's dead. My parents found us at our front door.'

'Maybe they shot her and then she escaped to die later. Or maybe your executioner was too weak to assassinate a newborn.' Jakob shrugged. 'Who knows?'

'How can I believe you?' Ilgrin bit his lip.

'You really are suspicious, aren't you? I suppose life amongst humans might do that to you, but I just risked my life to save yours.' Jakob narrowed his eyes. 'You don't know me very well yet, but you'll soon enough learn that I'm ordinarily one for self-preservation, not sacrifice.'

'Then . . . why?'

'I'm a Sa'Tanist.' Jakob sighed. 'I never asked for it. I was born into it and as things stand, I'll never rise above the lowly station of grunt work while ever the current system remains in place. My father lived and died as a spy for Hel's legion and never got anywhere. I do not wish to do the same. I'm helping you get back what belongs to you, because you're going to remember me when you get there.'

'And how do you intend on doing that?' Ilgrin asked. 'We have a two-man army. They have an entire world. Even if I am the Devil, how can we prove it?'

'The Devil's crown.' Jakob winked as the mouth of the cave loomed up before them. 'It burns the flesh of anyone who touches it--the only exception being those of the Sa'Tanic bloodline. That means you. But don't you worry your little head about the details. I happen to know a few like-minded individuals who are able and willing to offer a great deal of assistance.'

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

BETRAYAL

An alliance between Jenjol and the Elglair was a matter of great significance. To the rest of the world, it demonstrated that the Jenjen were able to rise above their petty hatred and that the Elglair were able to coexist with outlanders. As a result, in the weeks that followed the combined armies' departure from Veret, Far-a-mael and King Harundor had received offers of assistance from the lords of Riverend and the king of Engelta in Moor. Naturally, their offers had been accepted and once again the army increased innumerably.

El-i-miir stared at the wall in her tent. She was attempting to meditate. Doing so would allow her to connect more entirely with the Ways. Too many times she'd been caught off-guard and had been unable to affiliate with sufficient haste. She refused to let that happen again.

El-i-miir sighed, acknowledging that she'd been lying to herself. The truth was that she'd been meditating to take her mind off Ilgrin.

The silt had come to haunt her thoughts. Was he safe? She felt certain he was. They'd become intimate enough that El-i-miir was confident she'd feel it if something went wrong. She tried to visualise Ilgrin's face. His eyes were a deep shade of purple. His face was beautiful, though inhuman. El-i-miir stood up, having become frustrated by her thoughts.

'It has to be this way,' she murmured and headed for the exit.

The midday sun bit into El-i-miir's flesh as she wove between tents in an attempt to avoid the raucous gatherings of unruly soldiers. A few weeks earlier she'd suffered but a taste of what Seteal had gone through in Sitnic and she was still upset by it. At the centre of the camp--presently to the south of Elta--stood several large tents that loomed over those surrounding them. A number of them belonged to King Harundor and the various officials sent from the surrounding countries. One belonged to Far-a-mael and another ludicrously large tent was Seeol's.

El-i-miir made her way toward Far-a-mael's tent. 'I seek audience with the War Elder,' El-i-miir told the an'hadoan standing guard outside.

'Wait here,' the man said before ducking inside. He returned shortly thereafter. 'It'd better be important. The War Elder is not in good humour today, but you may enter.'

After stepping through the entrance, El-i-miir was struck by the overpowering odour of decay. Far-a-mael paced in the depths.

'What is it, El-i-miir?'

'Far-a-mael,' El-i-miir began informally. She approached cautiously, all the while trying to hide her repulsion. 'We used to be close. Can't you tell me what's happening to you?'

Far-a-mael sighed, stopped pacing, and turned to face her. His flesh was green and wrinkled. He was covered in weeping wounds that wouldn't heal and one of his eyelids hung heavily. Several of his fingernails were gone, leaving puss-ridden sores in their place. His clothes were soaked through by a pungent-smelling liquid. 'You remember I once told you of my allergies as a child?'

'Of course.' El-i-miir nodded sympathetically.

'Most of them went away with age.' Far-a-mael looked at his hands disparagingly. 'Some of them remained. I still cannot eat seafood and bottle trees give me a terrible rash. It would appear that I'm also allergic to resurrection.'

'I see,' El-i-miir said. It was not unheard of.

'My body is rejecting what you and Mister Geld did.' Far-a-mael's face fell. 'I'm decaying.'

'I'm sorry,' El-i-miir said.

'Oh, what do you care?' Far-a-mael snapped, his defensive walls returning. 'I tried to have you killed.'

'I'm in love with a demon.' El-i-miir smiled sadly. 'Anyone would've done the same.'

'You're a peculiar girl, El-i-miir.' Far-a-mael gazed at her with a half-smile. 'The world would be so much better off if the rest of us could be half as decent as you.'

'I have something to tell you,' El-i-miir said slowly, fearing that what she was about to say would count as betrayal to her friend.

'What is it?' The old man replied distractedly, his stomach making a strange squelching sound.

'It's Seteal,' El-i-miir said nervously. 'She plans to kill you.'

'Of course she does.' Far-a-mael put a hand to his chest and chuckled dismissively. 'It's no secret that she has my blood in her veins. My family are always so fond of revenge, aren't we? Never mind. I'll take care of it. Send her in here, will you?'

'You won't tell her,' El-i-miir said pleadingly. 'That I told you, I mean.'

'Of course not,' Far-a-mael said reassuringly. 'I have a separate matter I wish to discuss with her.' The old man waited until El-i-miir was about to exit before speaking again. 'El-i-miir,' he called.

'Yes?' She turned around.

'How would you like to go home when all of this is over?'

'You can't undo condemnation.' El-i-miir frowned at the cruel joke.

'I'm the War Elder, my dear.' Far-a-mael laughed. 'I make the rules as I see fit and I've decided that I want you back. It pains me to say it, but I made a mistake in sending you to Vish'el'Tei.'

'I can feel the truth in your words,' El-i-miir choked out, 'but still I cannot believe what I'm hearing.'

'You don't need me anymore,' Far-a-mael said softly. 'When we return, you will complete the Wil'ca examination. You're ready to become a gil.'

'I've dreamed of this,' El-i-miir said shakily. 'Thank you. Oh, thank you!'

'You've earned it. In coming to me about Seteal, you've shown where your true loyalties lie. Besides, you've gotten rid of the demon. I can see no reason to further maintain your punishment.' Far-a-mael smiled for a moment before jolting in response to a cracking sound in his mouth. He fished about for a moment and retrieved a tooth. 'Well? Go and get her for me.' He flicked the tooth absentmindedly across the tent.

El-i-miir stepped into the sunlight, her heart beating fast and her breath coming in short bursts. She could go home. She'd be able to see her family again . . . be there to watch her sisters grow up. And never see Ilgrin again. El-i-miir's heart sank. She shouldn't think about that. No, she should just go and find Seteal as directed.

'Seteal,' El-i-miir called when she found the woman's tent, but didn't wait for a response before barging inside.

'El-i-miir,' Seteal looked up in surprise. She was sitting on a makeshift bed, cradling her rounded belly. Seeol stood over her, but stared at El-i-miir as though she'd intruded on a private conversation. The young man's bright golden eyes were inhuman in colour and were all that remained of his avian form. 'What is it?' Seteal asked, standing slowly.

'We was just talks about your,' Seeol said almost incoherently, still struggling to work his human tongue.

'Seeol,' Seteal cautioned. 'I said no.'

'It's just friendlies,' Seeol insisted, bobbing his head a few times before stumbling toward El-i-miir. 'Will you eating some dinner for me?'

'You want me to eat your dinner for you?' El-i-miir raised her eyebrows.

'He wants you to have dinner with him,' Seteal rolled her eyes. 'I've been arguing with him for the better part of an hour.'

'Oh,' El-i-miir gaped, having been taken by surprise. 'I guess.' She squirmed beneath the young man's steady gaze. He really was quite handsome. 'Just to catch up of course.'

'Yessh!' Seeol pumped a fist into the air, possibly mimicking behaviour he'd witnessed from the soldiers. 'I told you,' he gloated at Seteal before turning back to El-i-miir and taking her hands. 'It will be the bestest night ever. We will talk and have fun and eat delicious beetles and dance in circles.'

'Calm down there, Seeol,' El-i-miir said nervously, immediately regretting having agreed to attend.

'Oh, it will be marvellous and there will be no naughty silts.' He skipped out of the tent and disappeared amongst the rabble.

'What'd you agree for?' Seteal asked. 'I was trying to prepare him for rejection to make it easier on you. Now you've gotten his hopes up. He loves you. You do know that, don't you?'

'He doesn't know what love is.' El-i-miir frowned. 'He's just an owl. Don't let the body of a man make you forget that.'

'I suppose you're right.' Seteal frowned.

'Besides,' El-i-miir said irritably, 'what makes you think you have the right to try convincing him not to ask me to dinner?'

'Maker, I was just trying to help,' Seteal said defensively.

'Well, don't,' El-i-miir snapped. 'I can take care of myself. Maybe I want to have dinner with Seeol.'

'All right.' Seteal chuckled. 'You go ahead and have a lovely evening together. It's a bit soon after Ilgrin, but who am I to judge?'

'Oh, you think you're so funny, don't you?' El-i-miir narrowed her eyes. 'By the way, Far-a-mael wants to see you in his tent.'

'And?' Seteal replied with a flick of her hair. 'If Far-a-mael wants to see me, he can come and find me.'

'Whatever.' El-i-miir raised her hands. 'I've delivered the message. Do with it what you want.'

Before long, the sun had set and El-i-miir found herself applying makeup before a small mirror in her tent. She was only seeing Seeol, but El-i-miir was a woman who prided herself on her appearance and intended to look her best at all times. Seteal watched idly, having made herself comfortable on El-i-miir's bed. Somewhat more unexpectedly, Ieane, too, had joined them, leading El-i-miir to suspect that Seeol had sent her to ensure that she came.

'It's really quite an honour, you know.' The girl pushed back her waist-length red hair.

'Yes,' El-i-miir moaned. 'You've said that about twenty times.'

'Well, it is!'

'Yeah,' Seteal snorted. 'It's such an honour to have dinner with a mutant elf owl. El-i-miir has just been so excited.'

El-i-miir responded only by pulling a face through the mirror.

'That's blasphemy!' Ieane cried furiously. 'If you're not careful, the Holy Spirit will smite you!'

'That's right,' Seteal said mockingly. 'Show a little respect, El-i-miir. You don't want to be pecked to death.'

El-i-miir attempted to supress her laughter for Ieane's sake, but ended up snorting instead. 'You really are terrible, Seteal.'

'I'm not going to sit here and listen to this heresy.' Ieane's eyes filled with tears. 'You're wicked, wicked people,' she spat before hurrying out of the tent.

'Right.' El-i-miir put her makeup bag on the floor. I think I'm ready.'

'About time.' Seteal rolled her eyes. 'You two lovebirds have fun.'

'I'm not going to bite.' El-i-miir turned with a sickly sweet smile. 'You want me to, but I'm not going to give you the satisfaction.' She abandoned the tent with a swish of her dress.

The night air was cool and crisp, but not at all unpleasant, which was of no great surprise considering how far south they'd travelled. El-i-miir set her sights on the large tents in the distance, but she froze in her tracks at the sound of stifled sobs coming from a quiet patch several strides away.

'Ieane?' El-i-miir whispered when she found the girl sitting in the grass with her knees tucked up under her chin.

'What do you want, Elglair,' she sobbed, angrily wiping away her tears.

'Look.' El-i-miir sat beside her. 'I'm sorry if we hurt your feelings. Seeol sure is important to you, isn't he?'

'He's more than just the Holy Spirit,' Ieane choked out through tears. 'He's my friend and you're all so mean to him. He tells me things. You really hurt his feelings when you're all so unkind.'

'I suppose,' El-i-miir said as empathetically as she could manage while secretly wanting to shake some sense into the girl and scream at her for her stupidity. 'I guess we've just always known Seeol as a little bird, not as this great Holy Spirit of yours. It's difficult for us to see him as anything other.'

'He's not, is he?'

'Not what?'

'The Holy Spirit.' Ieane's voice was filled with devastation.

'Who can say?' El-i-miir said reassuringly, not wanting to be the one to destroy the girl's faith. 'Come on, let's get you back to your tent.'

'You'll be late,' Ieane warned.

'I'm sure the Holy Spirit won't mind,' El-i-miir stood up and offered the girl her hand. 'Come on.'

'He's gone to a lot of trouble,' Ieane said quietly once they'd arrived at her tent. 'Try to be gentle with him.'

'I will.' El-i-miir smiled. 'You get some rest.'

*

Seeol looked over the table for what felt like the billionth time. At its centre were bunches of flowers and expensive scented candles. The circumference of the tent boasted even more candles and lanterns burning scented oils. Rose petals had been strewn across the floor and the finest Jenjen chef had created a banquet befitting a woman of such exquisite beauty as El-i-miir. She would not be disappointed. Ilgrin had never gone to such lengths for her.

'Seeol?' The sweet melody of El-i-miir's voice entered the tent before she did, moving as gracefully as ever. 'Seeol! What have you done?' Her eyes bulged in disbelief.

'Are you happy?'

'No,' El-i-miir gasped, before rushing in to blow out the candles. 'Oh, dear Maker! All that food.'

'Stop!' Seeol wailed. 'I dids all thish for you.'

'We are an army going to war,' El-i-miir said incredulously. 'We have little enough resources without you floundering them so carelessly.'

'I'm sorry!' Seeol cried. 'I loves you.'

'Oh, for Maker's sake,' El-i-miir glared at him. 'This has got to stop. You're just an--'

'Yes! I know,' Seeol cut her off bitterly. 'Is just a bird. Just a stupid little elf owl.' He beat his arms a few times before remembering he couldn't fly and then covered his face with his hands instead. He hated being human. He'd only done it for El-i-miir and she still despised him. 'I'm just a stupid, stupid owl.'

'I can't handle this.' El-i-miir threw up her hands. 'What are you playing at? You're not the Holy Spirit and when these fools figure that out they're going to kill the lot of us.'

'I am the sprit!'

'No, you're not!' El-i-miir shouted. 'You're an animal. That's why this is all so disgusting. Don't you get it? How could anyone love an animal like that?'

'You love a demon!' Seeol shouted back, suddenly furious.

'That's right,' El-i-miir hissed. 'I do love Ilgrin and you will never stand in the way of that. Goodbye, Seeol.' She turned to leave.

'Wait.' Seeol reached out to her.

'What?' El-i-miir paused at the entrance her silky black hair moving gently in the wind, her beautiful blue eyes, and piercing white pupils locked on his. 'What do you want?' she said more softly.

'If I could given you everything,' Seeol pleaded. 'If I was a man forever, woulds you love me?'

'No,' El-i-miir whispered, her face vanishing as the tent flap fell shut.

A powerful gust of wind blew into the tent and the remaining candles went out, leaving Seeol standing alone in the dark. A deep moan bubbled up from within his chest. It was a sorrow unlike anything he'd felt before. All hope vanished. Thunder rumbled, lightning flashed, the weather changed in the space of a second and the rain fell with his tears.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

RAIN

'We must hurry,' Jakob urged, doubling his pace. 'I don't like the look of those clouds.'

Ilgrin did as he'd been told and hurried after the human. The great whisp cloud sat dauntingly above them, purple flashes of sheet lightning intermittently draining what little light remained in the sky.

'Surely we must be close,' Ilgrin replied, fatigued from weeks in flight and the constant walking thereafter. 'I could fly the rest of the way.'

'My associates are in the cliffs up there,' Jakob murmured, 'but I only know how to get there on foot. Watch out!'

'What?' Ilgrin gasped in surprise as he felt his foot becoming tangled in a vine. 'It's just a patch of weeds,' he reassured Jakob, but when he tried to get free the vine only tightened further. 'What is this?'

'These are the kinds of things you have to watch out for in Old World,' Jakob stated, the irritation clear in his voice. 'Whisps have infested these lands for hundreds of years. Most things are mutilated--corrupted in some way or another. If you wish to survive this place, you have to live by the assumption that everything is trying to kill you.'

'Get it off me,' Ilgrin said nervously as the vine elongated and began snaking around his body in increasingly tightening circles.

'Not yet,' Jakob said nervously. 'It may dissipate before it can finish. This isn't the work of a particularly powerful whisp.'

'Please,' Ilgrin gasped as the vine wrapped around his chest, making it difficult to breath.

'Wait,' Jakob tensed, a hand resting inside his pocket.

'Do something,' Ilgrin wheezed, unable to draw in any air.

'Damn it.' Jakob snatched a flask out of his pocket and popped the cork. He flipped it upside-down at the base of the vine. Tentatively at first, and then with more purpose, a pure white mist slithered away from the flask, its behaviour and appearance matching an ordinary whisp perfectly aside from its colour, or lack there of. 'What a waste,' Jakob grumbled.

Spots danced across Ilgrin's vision as the vine loosened and he bent over gasping for breath. 'What was that?' Ilgrin clawed off the vine and tossed it to the ground.

'That--by its proper name--was a sieift. For obvious reasons they're more commonly referred to as "white whisps."' Jakob's voice resonated with frustration. 'It was my last one, so for Maker's sake, be careful where you put your feet from now on.'

'How?' Ilgrin asked as he hurried after the man, who'd already resumed his journey. 'How can it exist? What is it?'

'It's the exact opposite of a whisp,' Jakob replied. 'Regular whisps come into existence to make atonement for the giving of life. Sieifts come into existence through means of the exact opposite. It is the angels alone who possess the power to create them. In the same way you're able to reverse death, angels are able to induce it in the most hideous and agonising way imaginable. The result of which are sieifts, a substance of pure good--but there are so few angels left these days that sieifts are very hard to come by.'

'But you bottled it,' Ilgrin stated in confusion. 'Whisps are not of this world. They can't be bottled.'

'The bottle didn't hold any real physical barrier to the sieift, it just made it easier for me to carry it around.' Jakob shrugged. 'In the same way that whisps do whatever they want whenever they want, sieifts tend to be somewhat more amicable to our desires. They're usually willing to be bottled if your intentions are good. If you keep them too long, though, they do tend to get bored and either dissipate or wander off to find something else to do.'

'Where do these angels come from?' Ilgrin asked, becoming increasingly disturbed with the more he learnt about the strange silts.

'Legend has it that when the demons were cast out of Hae'Evun, Maker sent a few trusted angels to rule over them and ensure they didn't get out of control or do too much damage to the world. Of course, that all changed about a hundred years ago when the angel hunts began. Many were burned alive at the stake. Others had bricks tied to their feet and were thrown into the sea. That's why there are so few around anymore, but you'll meet one soon enough.'

'What do you mean?'

'One of my associates is an angel,' Jakob replied. 'Don't worry, she won't hurt you,' he added, observing Ilgrin's distress. 'She's on our side.'

'Who are you?' a child's voice enquired.

Ilgrin glanced about anxiously until he spotted a silt boy no older than six or seven semi-hidden behind a tree. 'Hey there.' Ilgrin smiled, his heart warming.

'Ignore him,' Jakob encouraged. 'We have to keep going.'

'Just a minute,' Ilgrin replied, turning his attention back to the boy. 'What're you doing out here alone?' He smiled at the child, gleeful to encounter another silt who, for the first time, wasn't trying to kill him.

'I'm not alone.' The boy giggled. 'You're funny.'

'He lives here,' Jakob hissed. 'Now let's keep moving.'

'We're in the middle of nowhere.' Ilgrin frowned. 'How can he live here?'

Jakob shook his head and pointed up. Ilgrin craned his neck, his vision moving up the tree trunk to find it bulging out near the top. The circular tree-mass had windows embedded across its surface in which curtains fluttered on the late afternoon breeze.

'They live in trees,' Ilgrin hissed in astonishment. 'Of course.' He turned in a slow circle to admire the many trees that bulged out at various levels above him. Silts in common clothing--for once not military--occasionally leapt from one branch to another.

'Where's your tree?' the boy asked.

'Far away from here,' Ilgrin replied, gazing in awe at the living buildings above his head. It was beautiful. Somehow the silts were able to grow structures out of organic plant material. There homes were alive.

'Come back inside, Jobe.' A woman popped her head through one of the windows and glared at Jakob suspiciously. 'What's a Sa'Tanist doing this far in? You shouldn't be allowing him this close to town.'

'Town . . . ?' Ilgrin trailed off only to recognise a small forest in the middle distance. There grew a patch of fifty or so trees with massive bulges in various places that seemed to be a hub of life. Silts flitted this way and that through the trees going about their daily business. Some of the trees had wheat growing around their circumference. Others had small pens with pigs or chickens in them.

'I'm sorry.' Ilgrin smiled up at the woman. 'I've got important business with this human. I didn't realise there was a town this close.'

'How in Maker's name could you miss it?' The woman shook her head. 'Come inside now, Jobe,' she called before disappearing from the window. The young silt flapped his wings clumsily and landed on a branch far above their heads. Ilgrin turned once more to admire the silt town. These people weren't monsters as he'd been taught--they were farmers. He stifled a gleeful laugh.

'Hurry up--' Jakob grabbed Ilgrin's arm and pulled. '--before you get us both killed.'

'These people aren't going to hurt us.' Ilgrin allowed himself to be dragged along. 'They're townsfolk.'

'Maybe not,' Jakob growled under his breath, 'but they'd be happy to contact those who will if they think anything is amiss. I've sacrificed too much to have you ruin it now.'

'All right, all right.' Ilgrin yanked his arm free. 'I'm coming.'

After crossing an expansive field devoid of any signs of life, other than the knee-high grass, Ilgrin found himself confronted by a steeply inclined cliff-face. 'How do you intend to get up there?' he asked, seeing no option other than flight.

'There is a way just a little farther up,' Jakob said weakly. His tone had changed. He didn't sound nearly as certain of himself as he had before. Something tapped against Ilgrin's shoulder and his own mood darkened. He put out his hand and a murky grey droplet splashed into his palm. It was rain. But it wasn't. Ilgrin's palm was not wet. He slid a finger through the droplet and watched it smear grey and sink in to his flesh. The dark smear remained. Ilgrin could not wipe it off. He felt anger building in his chest. He was furious that Jakob hadn't told him about whatever this stuff was.

'Whisp rain.' Jakob's eyes shone with fear. 'We need to get back to the others right now! I'm going to need a ride.'

'But I thought you said--'

'Never mind what I said,' Jakob barked. 'If we're caught out in a storm there will be no hope for either of us.'

Ilgrin gasped as the droplets became a drizzle, coursing across his flesh and sending waves of nausea running through his stomach along with an impending sense of doom.

'Hold on.' Ilgrin threw his arms around Jakob and beat his wings into the air. 'Where are we going?'

'Just stay close to the cliffs and keep moving south,' Jakob called back, his voice coming out in sudden bursts. 'When you see a small but slender opening, you'll have found it.'

Purple lightning exploded from the clouds and struck the earth. There it lingered, snaking about for a while before fading, leaving a black streak stained onto Ilgrin's vision. The place that'd been struck was bathed in darkness, the very light having been sucked out of the air. A second flash of lightning crashed into the silt town in the distance and terrified screams filled the air as the tree-houses burned, froze, exploded, or shattered.

'We have to do something!' Ilgrin cried mournfully, the rain now beating against him in torrents.

'Nothing can be done for them,' Jakob hissed malevolently, before opening his mouth and biting into Ilgrin's arm. Ilgrin howled in pain and punched the man in the face. Jakob laughed hysterically as blood trickled from his nose. 'Do it again! Do it again!' He giggled, eyes rolling in their sockets.

'Just breathe,' Ilgrin encouraged himself, despite facing the increasingly difficult challenge of maintaining his sanity. He needed to go back to the town. He had to go back to kill the child. His name was Jobe. Ilgrin pictured it in his mind's eye. The little boy would be struggling to escape from his burning home. Ilgrin would clench his throat and squeeze it, squeeze it until the child was dead. He'd squeeze and squeeze. A gagging sound snapped Ilgrin free of his thoughts. He'd been strangling Jakob.

'You deserve to die,' Ilgrin hissed, despite having intended to apologise.

Jakob whipped out his knife and pressed it against Ilgrin's throat, but he battered it away and watched the piece fall. 'That's mine,' Jakob shrieked, pushing against Ilgrin so hard that he had no choice other than to let go. Jakob plummeted. He screamed and laughed as he went.

'Good riddance,' Ilgrin spat, watching Jakob's descent. As the man fell closer and closer to the jagged cliffs, Ilgrin found himself becoming increasingly excited, but he also felt disappointed that he'd never get to see the impact. An unknown silt leapt away from the cliffs, raked his toes forward, caught Jakob, and banked back to the safety of the cave from which he'd come.

'This way.' The silt waved urgently before disappearing from view.

'No!' Ilgrin cried, having come to enjoy his dance in the rain. But wait . . . he could kill them. It'd be worth leaving the rain to kill them. Ilgrin tilted his wings and plunged toward the crevice in the rocky cliff-face. He found himself in an extremely narrow tunnel devoid of any life.

'El-i-miir,' he heard himself murmur, voice full of malice. 'El-i-miir.' The name was familiar. He wanted so badly to kill, or at least to die. Ilgrin slammed his head against the wall of the cave and laughed hysterically as blood poured from the wound. He caught some in his hands and lapped at it in his excitement. She was beautiful, his El-i-miir. Come back, she whispered in his mind. Her voice was a soothing stream in the mayhem of Ilgrin's soul. Come back.

Ilgrin sobbed and clenched his fists as the narrow tunnel opened out to reveal a large cavern lit by lanterns hanging from the wall. There was a table at the centre of the room. Jakob was on the floor. A woman with long black hair leaned over him. Ilgrin struck at her, his fists clenched.

'Teah,' a male voice boomed when a second silt leapt out from the dark and attempted to restrain Ilgrin. 'Can they be helped?'

'If they have any chance, we'll need to act quickly.' Teah straightened up and turned to face Ilgrin. Even through his madness he was startled by her appearance. The woman wore black lipstick and eye makeup. She had countless necklaces and chains hanging from her neck and equally as many bracelets around her arms. But all of that paled in comparison to what he saw next. When Teah tilted her head this way or that, for just a fraction of a second something would glisten above her head. It had no discernible shape, but whenever the light caught it at just the right angle it would appear bearing similar colours and patterns as one would see dancing across a soapy film.

'Quickly,' the male silt urged. 'He's past the madness. He'll soon be dead.'

'I've done all I can for Jakob,' Teah said ominously. 'We'll just have to wait and see. Now, for you.' She looked over at Ilgrin nervously. 'Sa'Enoch.' Teah retrieved a large flask and removed the cork. She moved her fingers above the container as though coaxing something out and sure enough a white mist drifted up to hover above her hand. Someone was screaming. Ilgrin jolted when he realised it was him. He was in agony. His heart beat too fast and his throat was closing up. His stomach twisted and cramped.

'Hurry, Teah,' the male silt said nervously. 'It's almost done.'

Teah ignored the man, instead turning to the sieift that'd formed into a white ball between her hands. She whispered to it quietly and it plunged into Ilgrin's chest. If he'd thought he was in agony before, it was nothing compared to this. Ilgrin writhed in excruciating pain as battle was waged within him. The darkness didn't like the sieift. The whisp rain would put up a fight before giving up its home. And then the pain subsided.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

THE CLOUDS ARE CAVING IN

'Knock, knock.' Far-a-mael's voice intruded on Seteal's thoughts as it penetrated the canvas wall of her tent.

'What?' Seteal stood in anticipation of the man's company.

'I noticed that you rejected my invitation to come see me yesterday,' Far-a-mael stated as his grotesque figure entered the tent. 'I thought I'd come and see you instead.'

'What do you want, Far-a-mael?' Seteal stuck out her chin defiantly. 'Haven't you taken enough?'

'I need a favour,' Far-a-mael said, a thoughtful expression on his face.

'You must be joking.' Seteal laughed aloud.

'Perhaps "favour" was the wrong word,' Far-a-mael mused. 'Perhaps what I'm suggesting is more of a proposition.'

'A proposition?' Seteal pursed her lips. 'What kind of proposition?'

'In the upcoming weeks, we'll be engaging in battle with Old World.' Far-a-mael tapped his chin through his beard. 'But we really know very little about the enemy. I intend to attack no matter what, but it'd be nice to know what kind of odds we're going up against.'

'You want me to project to Old World,' Seteal stated dispassionately. 'You must be stupid. The last time I left my body, I couldn't get back in. What makes you think it'll be any different this time?'

'I can serve as your anchor,' Far-a-mael replied. 'I can tie you to the Ways through the stability of my aura. Even if you begin to reject the Ways, my aura will remain firmly attached. I'll easily be able to pull you back.'

'Why didn't you do that last time?'

'Because you were already gone.' Far-a-mael shrugged as though it were obvious. 'The bond must be prepared before the projection.'

'Why?'

'Why what?'

'Why would I help you?' Seteal said indignantly. 'You must know how much I hate you.'

'Have you heard the happy news?' The old man began pacing back and forth across the tent. 'Due to the kindness of my heart, I've welcomed El-i-miir back into the fold. I've even promised her the Wil'ca trials.'

'I'm so glad,' Seteal murmured unenthusiastically.

'The poor girl has nowhere else to go, especially since her pet demon disappeared.' Far-a-mael sighed. 'It would be a shame for me to have to change my mind.'

'That's it?' Seteal raised her eyebrows. 'That's the deal? I help you get information about your enemy and you allow El-i-miir to return to the Frozen Lands? What do I get out of it?'

'I know of your intentions, Seteal.' Far-a-mael narrowed his eyes at her. 'You wish to kill me.'

'How could you possibly . . .' She trailed off.

'Elglair, remember?' Far-a-mael tapped his head. 'We have our ways of finding things out. How could you want to kill your own grandfather?' He finished with a flourish, as though he felt the information would catch Seteal off guard.

'I know who you are,' she said coolly.

'And you still want me dead?' Far-a-mael chuckled in astonishment. 'My dear, you are a girl after my own heart.'

'I'm nothing like you,' Seteal snapped, taking an unconscious step back.

'Nevertheless.' Far-a-mael shrugged. 'You have none of the platitudes of your mother and you did just admit to wanting me dead. Well, congratulations, you've got what you wanted.'

'You're dying.'

'Of course.' Far-a-mael nodded. 'Look at me. At best, I've got little over a month. So, how about it? Let your friend return home, have the satisfaction of knowing I'm dead, and . . . you can return to Elmsville with the peace of mind that the Elglair will never bother you or your family again,' Far-a-mael looked pointedly at Seteal's enlarged belly.

'I'll think about it.' She exhaled slowly.

'Very well.' Far-a-mael nodded graciously. 'But don't ponder your options too long. I won't live forever, you know.'

*

El-i-miir rested atop her black horse and waited just outside the camp. She didn't know what for. She could easily return the horse and nobody would be any the wiser. She could back out and return to the Frozen Lands just as Far-a-mael had promised she could. But oddly enough, Seeol had taught El-i-miir something about love--and sending Ilgrin away had been a mistake.

The Ways could not be altered. Who was she to think she could change them? Ilgrin would die. She'd just been too cowardly to be willing to face it when he did. El-i-miir realised now that what little time they had was precious. Everyone died sooner or later, and even putting Seteal's prophecy aside, Ilgrin would not have had even half her life expectancy anyway. El-i-miir needed to touch him again, to feel his embrace. If only one more time. She would not let Ilgrin die alone and without love.

With tears in her eyes, El-i-miir cast a forlorn glance back toward the camp. She was throwing away the only chance she'd ever get to go home. She knew that. But El-i-miir didn't belong in the Frozen Lands anymore. She belonged with Ilgrin. With tendrils of light already dancing away from her fingertips, El-i-miir affiliated her horse and headed south at a gallop.

*

'War Elder Far-a-mael.' Sy'hadoan Tim-a-nie entered the tent. 'Seteal is on her way to see you, but El-i-miir is still missing.'

'Does she know?' Far-a-mael couldn't keep the frustration from his voice.

'Not yet,' Tim-a-nie replied reassuringly.

'Good. Keep it that way.'

'Far-a-mael.' Seteal entered with a hand on her belly. Tim-a-nie took his cue to leave. 'I've considered your proposition.'

'And?'

'I'll do it,' Seteal stated. 'You get to die. El-i-miir gets to go home. And I get left alone. The Elglair will never come near me or my family.'

Far-a-mael smiled. 'That's the deal.'

'All right.' Seteal nodded. 'So how should we do this?'

'Make yourself comfortable.' Far-a-mael threw some pillows and a blanket on the floor. 'Focus on the Ways as I've taught you, but don't become too lost in them. You must remain within your body long enough that I have sufficient time to create the anchor.'

'There,' Far-a-mael murmured to himself when the edges of Seteal's aura became fuzzy. She'd lowered her defences, making penetration that much easier. Refusing to allow the opportunity to pass him by, Far-a-mael threw tendrils of light into the girl's aura and knotted them tight. He made sure to leave plenty of slack for fear she'd discover just how tightly he'd bound her. It was Far-a-mael's intention to make the anchor permanent. He didn't trust the girl not to use her abilities against him and needed to be certain of his power over her. He'd be able to yank her back into her body whenever he chose.

'Done.' He smiled, securing the final tie.

'Now what?' Seteal turned to face him.

'Now you do what you do best, knowing that I'll pull you back should something go wrong.' Far-a-mael smiled as warmly as he could. 'Just call out to me and I'll be right by your side.'

*

Seteal squeezed out of her body. The additional weight of Far-a-mael's anchor was surprisingly noticeable. If projection usually felt like floating, now it was more comparable to swimming holding lead weights. She had to work to move free of her body and felt like she might snap back at the slightest provocation. Seteal moved through the roof of the tent and pushed into the sky. Despite the additional weight, it felt good to be free again, away from her wrecked body and the tumour that grew in her womb. Seteal giggled inwardly, feeling the elation that came from existing in her spiritual form.

The camp, so immense from the ground, soon became an insignificant speck. Seteal danced through the mountaintops and amongst the clouds. She sailed over rushing streams and plunged along the length of thunderous waterfalls. She sped south faster and faster, the world becoming a blurry mass, until finally she came to a stop before heavy black clouds that filled the distant horizon.

Seteal caught herself feeling apprehensive and proceeded with caution, despite the fact that nothing could hurt her while projecting. She was quite safe, many hundreds of miles away in the northern parts of Kilk Antet. In the distance, strange trees that bulged in various places stretched up from the ground. The structures were too small to be anything of great importance, so Seteal surged on until the woodlands became thicker and the trees more numerous.

Silts darted this way and that, catching Seteal off-guard by how mundane their lives appeared. An elderly woman hung out clothes to dry on a slender branch protruding from her tree. A group of boys played some sort of ball game in the air above the house. A young couple embraced each other on the earth below, where they were less likely to be interrupted. Seteal had clearly entered a city of sorts, but she had not yet reached its centre. She moved on.

At the centre of the city stood a great tree that rose out of the ground to tower over the others. Its enormity was breathtaking, its peak scraping the whisp clouds above. Its girth was such that surely it'd take several hours just to walk its circumference. The great tree was punctured with countless window and doorways through which nobles and servants rushed about their various duties.

Curious for a closer look, Seteal surged toward the sky and headed for the treetop. Few silts were found at such heights and a look at the sky told Seteal the reason for it. The whisp clouds rushed this way and that, feverishly churning about each other, all seeking out a secret destination of their own. Something bit into Seteal's soul and the ice cold sensation burned her spirit. The breath vanished from her body's chest hundreds of miles away. Seteal's spirit shuddered and she turned in time to see a tendril of the great whisp reaching out to prod her. Immediately it recoiled--a kitten playing with a lizard, not quite sure of what to do with it.

How could this be possible? She was in her spiritual form. It occurred to Seteal then that whisps, too, were of spiritual origin. Turning to flee, Seteal was struck a second time by the outstretched length of whisp, but this time it did not let go, instead latching deep into her soul. Seteal's body screamed in horror, but she immediately realised her mistake. Far-a-mael yanked on the anchor while the whisp was still embedded.

'No!' she howled as the anchor dragged her through the sky.

As one, the clouds caved in, millions of whisps tempted by the strangeness of what they'd discovered pulled along with Seteal as one deadly force.

Far-a-mael, stop! she tried to cry, but her body had ceased responding, instead screaming endlessly as it flailed her limbs in every direction. The great whisp pulled back on Seteal's spirit, refusing to let her go, but Far-a-mael's anchor was stronger and the whisps lost their grip. But it was too late. It knew where she was now. It'd felt her destination through the anchor. And simultaneously thousands of whisps surged north as one.

Seteal screamed in her being as she raced the cloud across the world. Miles away her heart beat quickened, her chest raising and falling in panic. Seteal plunged through the whisps again and again as it surged through her and over her, the two of them locked in a deadly race in and around each other. Each refusing to take a less direct route, the pair crashed through mountaintops, causing large shards of rock to break off and tumble in every direction. With a desperate howl, Seteal stretched out to the Ways and did everything, anything she could think of to the canvas. Lightning struck through the darkness, only to reach the trees below it. The earth cracked open with a deep shuddering moan and lava sprayed into the sky, but again that which was physical took no toll on the mass of whisps.

In a flash, Seteal passed over a town, taking with her split-second images of grim-faced men and women as they witnessed the darkness passing over. Throwing herself at the whisp, Seteal pleaded with it, but it only engulfed her, read her, stained the canvas and wrapped around her as they passed over an unfamiliar city. People cast their eyes skyward to find the shape of an invisible woman shrouded at the forefront of black mist.

After plunging through another mountain, Seteal saw a speck in the distance. It was the camp. She tried to make her mouth speak, to beg that Far-a-mael release the anchor, but her lips wouldn't respond. The camp rose up before Seteal with her company of whisps. Far-a-mael's tent flew toward her as she fell through the top. The old man's face was filled with concern, and then horror.

Seteal crashed into her body. Her eyes burst open. She opened her mouth to scream, but her throat was already raw. The tent shook with black wind and the whisps forced themselves down Seteal's throat. They squeezed into her lungs and into her blood. Their fetid core emptied into her body and pushed through her skin. Still, the whisps came. The darkness filled her. There was more. It wouldn't stop. There was still more. Seteal's mind shattered. Her head burned with agony. The whisps kept coming. Seteal's bones began to break and her heart beat lost consistency. Her nerves burned on fire. Her arteries froze to ice. But suddenly the whisps changed their minds, burrowing deeper.They'd found something more delicious then the spent whore who they'd been about to feast on.

'No!' Seteal cried bitterly. The damage to her bones was reversed and her heartbeat was restored, the whisps focused on a deeper part of her. The darkness was pumped through her blood and into her womb where it formed an attachment to her unborn child.

'Not him!' Seteal begged as the physical pain subsided and she felt her son's mind begging for relief. He cried out to his mother, but she could do nothing. And then something ugly, and only darkness.

It was done. Seteal's vision cleared. She put a hand over her stomach, rolled over and vomited. She gagged at the bitter taste and balked at the stringy black fluid that sprayed across the floor.

'You!' She glared up at Far-a-mael. 'I'll kill you!' Seteal shrieked. She readied herself to leap free of her body. But she couldn't. She tried a second time, but it was as though the Ways had ceased to exist. It was then that through the putridness within she felt something else: the anchor. 'What have you done to me?'

'Tim-a-nie!' Far-a-mael shouted, his eyes wide with fear. 'Tim-a-nie, get in here!'

'Yes, War Elder,' Tim-a-nie burst into the tent. 'Get this cleaned up.' He pointed at Seteal's vomit. 'Remove my belongings and burn the tent.'

'What . . . have . . . you . . . done?' Seteal crawled toward Far-a-mael, spreading the black vomit across the floor as she went. 'What--' She attempted a second time, but only succeeded in throwing-up more of the gunk. 'You've killed me,' Seteal wailed. 'Let me out! Let me out!' She clawed at her face, leaving bloody gashes with her nails. 'I can't stay in here!' she screamed, gauging at her arms and legs. 'Please . . . please!' She crawled over to Far-a-mael and reached out for him, but the old man turned away. 'Release me. Let me go.'

'I can't,' Far-a-mael said, dodging his way toward the exit. 'I can't imagine what you're going through, but there is simply too much at stake to risk you ruining it all.'

'I won't.' Seteal reached out to him, only to tumble off balance back into her own vomit. 'Please,' she begged. 'I won't touch you. Just let me out. Let me out! Don't leave me in here with it!'

'I'm sorry,' Far-a-mael shook his head, his eyes expressing true horror. 'I'm so sorry, Seteal.' He put a hand over his mouth and backed out of the tent.

Seteal's flesh was cold. The unborn child growing inside her had been changed and all she could feel was putrid darkness. Waves of nausea washed over her continuously. The light in the room was too bright. Seteal coughed, this time spraying blood into her hand. She slithered across the tent and leaned against the wall panting. She couldn't get enough air. She felt like she was on the edge of suffocating.

'Sweetheart,' Fes raced fearlessly into the tent. 'Come with me. Ye'll be all right,' the big woman wrapped Seteal in her arms and dragged her to her feet. 'Let's get ye cleaned up.' She practically held Seteal up as she stumbled out of the tent.

'Where's . . .' Seteal swallowed, blinking in the sunlight, paralysed by all the faces staring at hers. 'Where's El-i-miir? Get me El-i-miir?'

'I be sorry, lovey,' Fes replied. 'She gave me a note ta give ta ye. Given the circumstances I be readin' it. She be gone. But ye nah be worryin' about that right now. Come on, dearie.'

'I want El-i-miir.' Seteal's head fell to the side and spots danced across her vision. 'El-i-miir . . .'

'I know ye do, hon,' Fes soothed. 'We'll see about that later.'

Seteal's head hit a pillow. Someone was wiping her face. She couldn't open her eyes. She couldn't.

Aro-is-lin 4

15. And darkness will pursue thee into thy wretchedness. Thee shall be desolate. Those whom She loves must find only hate. And those whom She hates, only death.

Scriptures of the Holy Tome

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

WEPT FOR

'Again!' Master Fasil clapped his hands together with glee. 'You're making a bit of a habit of this, aren't you? First you had your way with me and now you've taken a whisp . . . or a thousand whisps . . . or whatever it was. My dear Maker, you really are getting to be quite the little slut, aren't you?'

'You won't even leave me to dream in peace?' A ten-year-old Seteal glanced up at the ugly, sweating fellow from the tree swing in which she was rocking. She waved at Gifn, who watched protectively from the kitchen window. 'It was all so easy back then.' Seteal now stood beside Fasil, watching her younger self swinging ever higher. 'Were you ever so innocent?'

'I suppose we all were at some time or another.' Fasil shrugged. 'You can never have it back, though.' He paused for a moment. 'And what, may I ask, do you intend to do about that?'

Seteal turned around to see Fasil examining the greenery and flowers surrounding her. They were withering and dying the longer her presence remained. The sun disappeared. Dark clouds rolled in and she turned to find a baby crying in his basinet.

'That's not mine,' Seteal replied.

'Of course he is,' Fasil picked up the child and kissed him on the cheek. 'We made him together, the three of us.'

'The three of us?' Seteal cringed.

'His mama . . .' Fasil winked at Seteal. 'His papa--' He kissed the baby. 'And his whisps.' The baby's eyes burst open to reveal twin black spheres that spilled blood rather than tears.

Seteal gasped and woke up in a cold sweat. She tasted blood and could only assume she'd bitten her tongue. Fes's large outline snored softly in a chair beside the bed and a small candle flickered at the opposite end of the tent. The urge to relieve herself became overwhelming, driving Seteal to pull back the blankets, but what she found only made her feel worse. Between her thighs, Seteal's nightdress was soaked in blood.

'Fes!' Seteal cried. 'Fes. Wake up!'

'I be here, honey,' Fes said groggily. 'Oh, my Lord Maker,' she gasped and pushed herself to her feet. 'I'd best get the jilt'lesit.' She rushed out of the tent.

Moving cautiously, Seteal put her feet on the floor and a hand on her head. The tent flap was torn open and Seeol hurried in followed by Fes and an unknown Elglair man.

'Who's that?' Seteal asked anxiously.

'He be Gor-in-ai,' Fes replied as if it were obvious. 'He's the jilt'lesit who examined you after . . . what happened.'

'Never mind all that.' The young man rushed forward. Seteal estimated his age to be about seventy. 'Loss of short-term memory is not an uncommon symptom of trauma. Hold still for a moment.' Gor-in-ai reached out to Seteal's aura, undoubtedly feeling along the various strands of light within. 'This is quite unusual. With that much bleeding, I expected . . .' He trailed off.

'What is it?' Seeol asked.

'The baby is fine,' Gor-in-ai replied. 'And by that, I mean he's alive.'

'He?' Seteal looked at her stomach disparagingly. She'd dreamt of a boy, but had hoped otherwise. 'It's a man child?'

'Yes,' Gor-in-ai replied. 'I just don't understand. There's something that . . . is different. I feel the strands between you, but I am no longer able to see his aura. It's as though it's covered by a film of darkness. I really must consult with a gil in a matter such as this.'

'Fes,' Seeol butted in. 'Could you pleasing change the blankets?' He scooped Seteal up in his powerful arms and waited for Fes to change the bedding. Then he and the jilt'lesit waited outside for the Merry Islander to help Seteal clean herself up before returning. 'I must have talking time with Seteal alonely.'

'Gor-in-ai?' Fes enquired of the jilt'lesit.

'For now there's nothing more we can do for you or the child, Seteal.' The man sighed grimly. 'I advise plenty of rest.'

'Be quick, Seeol,' Fes warned as she and Gor-in-ai left.

'What is it?' Seteal asked when Seeol took a seat at the end of her bed.

'Don't be scared.' The young man put a hand on Seteal's belly and attempted to smile reassuringly, his eyes remaining unnervingly expressionless.

'I have a monster growing inside of me,' Seteal sobbed. 'I can feel it.'

'He's not a monster,' Seeol reassured her. 'He's your son.'

'How can you say that?' Seteal snapped. 'What do you know?'

'Once, a very long timing ago . . .' Seeol's eyes filled with sadness. 'I did hatched from a black egg in Narvon Wood. Is thought lots about it and is realised that we're the same.'

'My child's aura is gone.' Seteal spoke words that didn't want to leave her lips. 'Like yours.'

'A whisp did to me the same as your baby.' Seeol nodded. 'That's why you should not be so very scared. That's why he's not a monster.'

'But you are a monster, Seeol.' Seteal cringed, her heart sinking. 'Don't you see that? What if he's just like you? What if he has another self like you did?'

'I will help you.' Seeol moved over to the entrance. 'You can see so much.' Seeol sighed. 'But your greatest loss is that you can never see what is having right in front of you. I may be a monster, but I still have a heartbeat,' the man finished with a solemn expression and then exited the tent.

Seeol's words haunted Seteal until the following morning when it was time to pack up the tents and continue south. Briel did the majority of the work in pulling down Seteal's tent and storing it in his wagon, which had become an additional storage unit for army supplies. He'd likewise made room available for Seteal, having been advised by Gor-in-ai that she wouldn't be up for riding.

Once Seteal was safely bundled up in the back of the Keacos' wagon, Far-a-mael took it upon himself to pay her a visit. She smelt him before she saw him.

Seteal glared at the old man. 'What do you want?'

'Good.' Far-a-mael rubbed his hands together. 'I can see that you're comfortable and well-rested.' He seemed nervous. 'Well . . . now that it's all done with, might I ask if you have anything useful to report on the status of Old World?'

'Get out,' Seteal replied through gritted teeth. 'Get out!' she screamed, thrusting a hand in Far-a-mael's direction. The pain was barely noticeable at first, starting in her chest and moving quickly into her shoulder and along her arm. The burning sensation flashed through Seteal's forearm and burst out from her fingertips: an invisible pulse of energy. Far-a-mael was struck with such force that he flew out of the wagon and hit the ground several strides away.

Panting, wide-eyed and fearful, Seteal stared at her hand. This had happened before when she and Ilgrin were attacked by dogs in Setbrana. What was happening to her? Far-a-mael did not return.

The day stretched on forever, during which Seteal received little stimulation to distract her from the constant waves of nausea emanating from her stomach. Several times, she had to race to the back of the wagon to vomit up more of the strange black stuff that had come up the day before. On another occasion, she vomited blood and began to wonder if she was going to survive to give birth to whatever it was that grew within. Did she care? Perhaps if her body died, at last Seteal's spirit would be free.

But she already knew that wasn't to be the case. Her spirit had grown weak when she'd abandoned her body too long in Cold Wood. The spirit could not survive without the body. She wasn't even sure she wanted it to.

'What am I going to do with you?' Seteal put a hand over her stomach and stifled a sob when she felt a soft kick. 'Parrowun,' she whispered the name. She remembered having heard it a long time ago and hating it at the time. It had such morbidity of meaning that she couldn't understand why anyone would name their child in such a way. The word meant 'wept for,' which seemed all too appropriate in the case of Seteal's bastard.

She lifted her dress above her stomach and gazed at the bulging surface in dismay. The skin stretched out over her swollen belly had taken on a greyish tone and thin, black, vein-like structures had started to reveal themselves across the surface. She didn't want to look at it anymore and quickly rolled her dress back down to her ankles.

*

Ilgrin rubbed the back of his head and squinted through the hazy darkness of the cave. He counted three silts and a human sitting at the table several strides away. 'Who are you?' he asked, standing groggily.

'Sa'Enoch.' The only male silt approached, opening his hand and guiding Ilgrin back to the table to offer him a backless chair. 'Welcome. I'm sure you and Jakob must be well acquainted by now.' He indicated toward the Sa'Tanist at the far end of the table. 'This is May,' he said, putting a hand on a female silt's shoulders before lowering his lips to kiss her cheek. 'And that is Teah.' He gestured toward the darkly clad woman with the strange illumination that occasionally blinked into existence above her head. 'I'm Noah.'

'These are your acquaintances?' Ilgrin turned to Jakob. 'The ones willing to help us?' For the first time since their meeting, Jakob only nodded in response and kept his eyes lowered.

'We are those of whom the human speaks,' Noah answered. 'So you're the man who wants my father's job?'

'Your father?' Ilgrin questioned.

'The Devil, Du'Korah,' Noah confirmed, a wry smile raising his cheeks. The silt pushed a hand through his neatly trimmed purple hair and winked an equally purple eye. 'Don't worry, I want him dethroned as much as anybody.'

'I'm sorry.' Ilgrin shook his head. 'This is all so much to take in. I've never really met another silt before.' He cast his eyes over Teah's hands and smiled at her lack of fingernails. 'Why do you want to dethrone your father?'

'It's simple, really.' Noah shrugged. 'Father is destroying Hades . . . what humans call Old World. He refuses to regulate healing or resurrection. Anybody can do it whenever they want and Hades is suffering because of it. I don't believe my father should've stolen the throne from your mother. I think it's fitting that the line of Sa'Tan should have it back.'

'What is that?' Ilgrin asked distractedly, once again noticing the strange disk flicker above Teah's head as she turned to look toward the entrance.

'You've noticed my halo,' Teah replied. 'I'm an angel,' she stated as though that were all the explanation required.

'How are you all connected?' Ilgrin pushed. 'How can I trust any of you?'

'If we were not trustworthy,' Noah said slowly, 'you'd already be dead. My father has put a price on your head and yet here you are alive in my presence.'

'How did he know I was alive?'

'It became obvious when Sa'Tanist spies reported a rogue silt flying about the skies of Abnatol.' Noah's tone remained patient. 'Our kind are never sent that far north, so Father's suspicions were raised immediately. Upon interrogation, the men who were sent after you and your mother so long ago admitted to being too weak to execute a child. They've since been executed themselves.'

'What about the rest of you?' Ilgrin glanced about the table.

'You already know my motivation.' Jakob shrugged.

'May is my fiancée,' Noah answered for the quiet light-blue-haired woman. 'She supports what I'm trying to accomplish. And Teah--'

'I'm an angel,' Teah repeated her earlier statement. 'It's not safe for me to be seen in public. They'd hunt me down and kill me like they did my family. I'm hoping you'll introduce a policy change.' She looked at Ilgrin penetratingly. 'Anyway, you couldn't possibly be as recklessly destructive as Korah.'

'Okay.' Ilgrin nodded, satisfied by the answers he'd received. Each of them had a motivation that made sense. 'So what's the plan?'

'It's quite simple.' Jakob spoke up, his face looking as haggard as Ilgrin felt after their whisp rain experience. 'We have to get you and the crown together and seeing as though we can't bring the crown to you, we'll have to bring you to the crown.'

'Where is it kept?'

'In the treasury,' Noah replied. 'My father has the only key and he wears it around his neck.'

'Sounds easy,' Ilgrin said sarcastically.

'We know that New World has formed alliances between various countries therein and are planning an attack on Hades,' Noah replied. 'I'll find a way to steal my father's key the night before he goes into battle. He'll have so much on his mind I doubt he'll notice its absence. While the Devil is gone, along with half the legion, it shouldn't be too difficult to sneak down to the treasury unnoticed. The advantage we have is that no one really knows what you look like, and if we get you some decent clothing everything should go smoothly.'

'That's your plan?' Ilgrin stared in wide-eyed astonishment. 'Jakob recognised me immediately.'

'It wasn't hard to figure out.' Jakob shrugged. 'I'd heard you were still alive and heading our way. You wore human clothing and had a foreign accent.'

'So if we get you something decent to wear, and you keep your mouth shut, you should get by unnoticed,' Noah added.

'There's more,' May spoke up. 'We know the Devil's routine: when he bathes, when he sleeps, when he's most likely to be drunk. Korah has grown somewhat complacent in his old age and retrieving the key will be difficult, but not impossible.'

'All right,' Ilgrin agreed, inwardly laughed at the irony of using Far-a-mael as a distraction.

'If there are no more questions, I should be on my way.' Noah stood up. 'The rain has stopped and Father will be suspicious if I'm out much later. Goodnight.' The silt stood regally in his fine clothing, took May's hand, and headed for the exit.

'Goodnight,' Jakob echoed tiredly as he got up and made his way down a narrow passage at the back of the cave.

'What?' Ilgrin asked Teah after she'd stared at him continuously for the better part of a minute.

'This must all be very strange to you.' The woman smiled warmly and Ilgrin realised for the first time how beautiful she was beneath all that makeup.

'It is.' Ilgrin frowned.

'Not quite what you'd expected?' Teah asked.

'I don't know,' Ilgrin replied. 'You live in trees, for Maker's sake.'

'What were you expecting?' Teah laughed. 'That we'd behave like humans with wings?'

'Maybe.' Ilgrin felt himself going blue with embarrassment. 'Why do demons hate your kind so much?'

'People always hate those who're different.' Teah smiled sadly. 'And I guess they didn't take kindly to being controlled.'

'What do you mean?'

'Up until a hundred or so years ago, the Devil could make whatever orders he wanted, but they had to be approved by the governing body,' Teah began. 'It'd been that way since the fall from Hae'Evun. But something happened.'

'What?'

'The Elglair,' Teah said despondently. 'Affiliates came to Hades, having made a deal with the devil. They possessed countless angels and turned them against their own kind. That's how the angel hunts began. Once they'd destroyed most of us, catching and burning the rest became increasingly easy.'

'No.' Ilgrin turned away in disgust. 'Affiliation to the point of possession is uncommon among the Elglair. How could there have been enough gils so qualified as to overthrow that many angels?'

'Maybe that's why it's uncommon,' Teah mused. 'They all came here. Some of them remain to this day: dedicated Sa'Tanists in the service of the devil. They have angel hostages and force them to do all kinds of evil. It's a fate worse than death.'

'We'll free them,' Ilgrin said empathetically. 'We'll free them together.'

'Thank you,' Teah reached across the table and took his hand, her eyes filling with tears. 'I knew the true son of Sa'Tan would have to be a good man. I just knew it.'

Ma-a-rk 56

18. And in those days a great wickedness would abound, and blasphemous things. Maker's sacred arrangement was defiled, and those He'd blessed as guardians became slaves.

Scriptures of the Holy Tome

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

TENSION

To her left, the black-stoned cliffs of Olgarnda pierced the eternal darkness. To her right was nothing but endless miles of grassy plains. El-i-miir stroked her horse's mane and squinted through the shadows of Old World. She glanced over her shoulder and saw daylight on the distant horizon, but El-i-miir had been travelling so long beneath the black veil that the idea of proper light had all but faded from memory.

While keeping close to the cliff face offered some protection, El-i-miir made sure to keep a keen eye on the sky nevertheless. She paid close attention to every bit of insignificant shimmering Way, determined not to leave anything to chance. Should she be attacked by silts, El-i-miir intended to know about it well in advance.

Slender tendrils of birds in flight grew brighter, telling of what was to come. Other strings slowly faded: events that'd already transpired. A thicker, more complicated strand dipped about the sky in a squiggly pattern composed of several colours that intertwined to form a complicated mix. A silt had flown over the area recently. It had been looking for something. El-i-miir slid around a large boulder, dismissing its dull grey history as she went. It'd tumbled down from much higher up the cliff several months earlier.

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.

'Why'd we come so far up?' Ilgrin panted, glancing at the ground, so far below that it was difficult to make anything out in detail. He then turned to stare at the imposing clouds, so close he could've touched them with a few cautiously chosen wing beats. He was about to look away, but something unusual held his attention. 'Do they always move like that?'

'What?' Noah replied. 'All over the place?'

'No.' Ilgrin squinted through the darkness. 'They're all moving north.'

'What?' Noah and Teah turned to look at the clouds.

'Maker! I've never seen anything like it!' Teah exclaimed, watching the whisps moving in and out of each other while churning steadily north.

'Never mind that,' Noah stated firmly, despite the confusion evident in his expression. 'We've come up this high because most people never do,' he answered Ilgrin's original question. 'Now follow me and keep your mouth shut.' He hurried along the branch toward a heavy wooden door and banged on it three times with the underside of his fist.

'Prince Noah,' a young silt gasped when he pulled open the door. 'You know the Devil doesn't like anyone entering the tree so high up.'

'I'll enter wherever I please,' Noah snapped. 'Follow me,' he called back to the others.

'You're not supposed to bring anyone in here!' the doorman cried out in distress.

'Ignore him,' Noah hissed firmly as they entered a long tunnel lit by lanterns.

Ilgrin followed through various passageways until he found himself standing on a ledge that opened out into an immense chamber that ran down the length of the giant tree. The few silts who continued about their usual duties in a time of war did so at a reduced pace--that was, until they recognised Noah's presence.

'This way,' he said, pulling back his wings and leaping off the ledge. Ilgrin gaped as the silt plummeted, his wings remaining closed.

'You'll get used to it.' Teah smiled reassuringly as she followed Noah's lead and stepped over the edge.

Ilgrin swallowed nervously as he watched the angel fall. 'Nothing to it,' he whispered to himself, pulling in his wings and taking a step into the abyss. The air tore at Ilgrin's face and his clothing billowed as he fell. As tempting as it was for Ilgrin to open his wings, he knew that if he did so, he'd lose the others or be stopped and questioned by tree staff.

As he descended, Ilgrin became painfully aware of his upcoming challenge. Bridges spanning the hollow interior were becoming increasingly numerous as the circumference increased. Below him, Noah and Teah would occasionally flick out a wing to slip around a branch or dodge a flying silt. Ilgrin had very little faith in his capacity to duplicate such manoeuvres, but soon found himself out of time to think about it.

Ilgrin cringed at the realisation that he was on a direct collision course with a rather wide pathway. He tentatively opened his right ring, but the action sent him spiralling uncontrollably. Flashes of irritated faces crossed his vision as he flipped about the vast space. The branch he'd been trying to miss flew passed his field of vision. Fearing for his life, Ilgrin thrust out both wings, but the force of his fall was such that he couldn't regain control. His wings snapped back painfully and Ilgrin cried out as he slammed into a wall and bounced off, blood spraying away from his nose.

Landing heavily on a path below, Ilgrin had but a moment to moan in pain before the weight of his dangling legs dragged him back into empty space. El-i-miir's face flashed across his vision and for a moment he thought he'd imagined it. But as he spiralled through the air he once again glimpsed her as she was being led through a passage surrounded by silts. Their eyes met for a moment, but it was enough for Ilgrin to be certain of her identity.

He tried to slow his descent with the intention of flying back up to find her, but again Ilgrin's lack of ability let him down. His leg cracked against a branch. He reached for another, but missed and wound up slamming his wing against a passing silt. The pair became tangled and fell out of control, the other silt shouting profanities before shaking free and disappearing in the opposite direction.

Ilgrin's wing throbbed painfully. He feared he'd broken it. The criss-crossing branches became less numerous, but only because the ground was fast approaching. Ilgrin cried out and spread his good wing, but the action only served to send him spinning yet again.

Toes snapped aggressively around Ilgrin's left leg and arm and powerful wings corrected his path. Noah gritted his teeth as he stabilised himself and flew furiously for a tunnel in the tree wall.

'Are you trying to get us killed!?' he shouted, his face flushed blue with anger. He pitched his legs forward and threw Ilgrin into the tunnel before entering and landing behind him.

Ilgrin tumbled across the floor until he hit a wall and came to a stop. Just as he'd feared, his wing was bent unnaturally and his face was hot and swollen.

'Maker, Enoch,' Teah whispered. 'What a mess.'

'Don't call him that here,' Noah hissed. 'Too many people know that name. Now get up. I won't have you ruin this for me. We're too close.'

'What's that supposed to mean?' Ilgrin asked through a nose blocked with blood.

'Just get the torrid up,' Noah spat furiously.

'I can't,' Ilgrin moaned. 'I think my leg is broken.'

'Oh, for Maker's damned sake,' Noah growled, approaching Ilgrin aggressively. He put a finger inches from his face and stared at him hatefully, before putting a hand flat against Ilgrin's chest. 'I don't have time for this.'

Ilgrin's body burned as his bones slithered back into their correct positions. New flesh swept over his wounds, sealing blood within his veins. 'You can't,' he gasped.

Noah gritted his teeth. 'I can.'

'Noah, we don't have any sieifts!' Teah said in distress.

'That's not my problem,' the demon hissed as he released Ilgrin and thrust him back against the wall. 'Now get up!' Noah shouted, but did not wait, instead dragging Ilgrin to his feet.

He felt sick. Ilgrin's flesh became grey. Noah didn't care and continued to shove him along the passageway. Ilgrin gagged and coughed up the first puff of black mist. He coughed once or twice more before bending over to vomit darkness. It squeezed unforgivingly from Ilgrin's flesh. Noah shoved him onward.

'For Maker's sake,' Teah snapped. 'Let him rest.'

'Keep moving,' Noah spat, retrieving a pistol from his pocket.

'Noah!' Teah cried. 'Have you lost your mind?' She raised her hands defensively.

'Try it.' Noah narrowed his eyes at her. 'If you think you're faster than me, try it,' he challenged. 'Because I swear to Maker I'll pull this trigger and a silver bullet through his brains the second you even think about using your powers against me.'

'Okay,' Teah said shakily, 'you win.'

Ilgrin shuddered as the last of the whisp fell away from his skin and slithered back down the length of the tunnel, no doubt in search of prey. With warmth returning to his flesh, Ilgrin was better able to contemplate the situation at hand.

'What do you hope to accomplish here, Noah?' he asked, while continuing on with Noah's pistol pressed into his back.

'Keep moving,' Noah snapped. 'You want your crown, don't you? Well, there it is.' He pointed toward a heavy iron door. It was slightly ajar and there wasn't a guard to be seen.

'I don't understand,' Ilgrin murmured. 'You could've just killed me in the caves. Why go to so much trouble? The Devil would go on being the Devil.'

'What makes you think I intend him to remain the Devil?' Noah said with a sly chuckle.

'Oh, it's exquisite,' May's soft voice floated out of the treasury.

'Isn't it just?' an old man rumbled back. 'It'll all be yours someday. I have no idea why you're in love with him. My son's an idiot. But I do so look forward to having you as a daughter-in-law.'

Ilgrin and Teah, followed by Noah came around the corner and through the door. An old silt, who could only have been the Devil, stared in disbelief as his son moved his pistol away from the back of Ilgrin's head and pulled the trigger. The explosion echoed about the chamber filled with the Devil's precious treasures. The bullet struck its target between the eyes. The Devil landed on his knees, the circle on his forehead filling with blood as he fell to his face.

'Catch!' Noah shouted as he arched his arm and threw the pistol at Ilgrin. He caught the weapon without thinking and stared at it in disbelief. Before he had the chance to toss it aside a troop of silt guards poured into the room.

'Arrest that man,' Noah commanded. 'He just assassinated the Devil. Arrest the angel, too. He used the creature to break into the tree.'

'No!' Ilgrin cried, dropping the pistol and backing away. 'I'd never.'

'It's true,' May piped in. 'I saw everything.'

'Enoch!' Teah cried desperately. 'I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I swear to Maker, I didn't know.'

'Get him, you fools!' Noah shouted and at last the guards reacted, leaping toward Ilgrin.

'Ilgrin! The crown!' Teah shrieked, pointing across the treasury. The guards threw their arms around Ilgrin to restrain him but all at once their grip weakened and Teah started shouting.

'Run!' she shrieked at Ilgrin as she thrust out her hands and the room filled with cries of agony as the angel afflicted everyone but him with her angelic power. The men squirmed and cried out, covering their ears and gouging at their faces as they writhed in pain.

Ilgrin hurried across the chamber toward the devil's crown. There it stood, perched high above the other treasures, a golden crown encrusted with rubies and bearing large curled goat horns of pure diamond. Teah gasped, her strength having abandoned her and fell to her knees. The room started filling with white mist as the men vomited or struggled to their feet. Some were dead and unable to get up, their bodies almost obscured by the perfect white sieift.

Ilgrin raced across the room, beat his wings and leapt into the air. The few guards remaining chased after him. Ilgrin thrust out his hand as a guard snatched at his foot and pulled. Ilgrin kicked him in the face and the guard let go. He beat his wings with renewed vigour and wrapped his fingers around one of the great diamond horns, retrieving the crown from its pedestal.

'I have it!' Ilgrin cried victoriously. 'It's mine.'

Having clambered to his feet, Noah stumbled back against the wall, a look off utter disbelief on his face. The guard closest to Ilgrin froze in his tracks, his mouth falling open at the site before him. Teah stood slowly, a smile touching the edges of her mouth. The sieift swept up against the side of the tree and disappeared leaving the room full of silts with a clear view of Ilgrin standing before them, Sa'Tan's crown in his grasp. 'Anyone who can take this from me may keep it.'

'It's a fake!' Noah roared. 'Nobody can touch the true crown. Arrest him. He assassinated the Devil.'

One of the guards crossed the room and put a hand around the crown only to flush blue and cry out in anguish. He pulled back to find his palm blistering, his flesh having been boiled in an instant. A second silt approached, reaching out to heal his friend's wound.

'No,' Ilgrin commanded. 'Not that. There will be no more healing in the kingdom of Hel. He can go home and nurse his wound like everyone else.'

'Everyone else?' Noah spat. 'Who is "everyone else"? They can't be silts, because everyone around here uses the gift Maker blessed us with. Well, Ilgrin? Who is your "everyone else"? Could it be those filthy humans you love so much?'

'Arrest him.' Ilgrin stepped forward, placing the crown atop his head as he went. 'The kingdom of Hel will answer to me, the last living decedent of Sa'Tan. I am Sa'Enoch, the one true living Devil.'

CHAPTER NINETEEN

FAR-A-MAEL'S WAR

Having received fresh supplies from Kintor, the great army was again marching steadily south with Far-a-mael and King Harundor at its forefront. It would have been better for the Jenjen to see Seeol out the front as well, but Far-a-mael had arranged to keep the bird-man as far away as possible for fear of his reaction once the fighting began. In Far-a-mael's experience, having leaders at the front created a sense of security and respect in the men. It was an illusion, of course. Far-a-mael knew better than anyone that a confrontation with silts had no front or back. The legion might land behind them or right in their midst.

A pink film dribbled across Far-a-mael's eye, momentarily obscuring his vision. He wiped the substance away and glanced at the black clouds above. They were well into Old World territory and Far-a-mael was able to make out distant trees that'd been grown into unnatural shapes. The structures were silt homes.

The Ways spluttered in and out of existence for Far-a-mael, his decaying body having become less able to sense them. Still, he focused on the broken strands of light that danced around him and noticed a strange discolouration--invisible to any but the Elglair eye--in the distant sky. He raised his hand and as one the army ground to a halt. Eerie silence filled the air, only to be replaced by a steady buzzing din. The sound was that of beating wings and soon enough Far-a-mael saw them.

The dark figures tore through the night sky, their wings becoming increasingly loud as they approached. 'Catapults,' Far-a-mael called and was satisfied to hear his orders being repeated down the lines of men. The silts came closer and closer, soon filling up the sky and causing the men to shuffle nervously.

'Fire!' Far-a-mael shouted.

Massive stones were launched into the air targeted at the steadily approaching legion. Many silts were able to dive out of the way. Others were less fortunate. Far-a-mael smiled as limp bodies sprayed across the sky, but his smile was lost as others pursued and resurrected them before they could hit the ground.

'Archers!' Far-a-mael called, satisfied in the knowledge that many of the arrows had been tipped with silver. 'Fire!'

Thousands of arrows whistled toward the silt legion and soon a spray of the creatures fell like rain from the air. At first others went after them, but when their attempts at resurrection failed, they knew that they'd been bested. Realising that the time was short to use his greatest advantage, Far-a-mael ran over to the nearest catapult and ordered the operators to load the black powder bombs. They were a new invention introduced to him by the alchemists of Jenjol, but Far-a-mael was satisfied by their capacity for destruction.

'Fire!' he roared. Weighted capsules of burning black powder sailed through the air. Several failed to explode. Others whizzed through the ranks of silts and exploded too late . . . but others. Far-a-mael laughed in the glory of it all as the capsules blew up: thunderous balls of fire. Countless silts were incinerated, instantly rendering them far too dead to resurrect. Others fell away, screaming and burning. Some of them tried to keep flying, but quickly lost their strength.

'Isn't it beautiful, Sar-ni,' Far-a-mael sang out joyously. 'It's all for you!'

Then came the return fire and Far-a-mael ceased his rejoice. Silt arrows rained down upon the great army of New World. Men threw up shields while others were struck dead.

'Fire at will!' Far-a-mael shouted furiously as the silt legion started flaring wings for descent.

Far-a-mael took the opportunity to squint into the distance. There he saw something that brought a grim smile to his decay-hardened and cracking lips. Twenty horses galloped with their twenty Elglair riders. The Sa'Tanist affiliates. He'd waited so long to meet them in battle. Craning his neck, Far-a-mael caught a glimpse of several silts flying rather cumbersomely, a familiar glimmer of angelic light occasionally flashing into existence above them.

A man several strides to Far-a-mael's left was the first to be taken into the air. A demon thrust out his metal taloned feet and tore the soldier into the sky. There the creature ripped him in half and allowed the pieces to fall. Blood sprayed across Far-a-mael's face as he tore free his pistol with one hand and his sword with the other. A Jenjen soldier fell screaming in fits of agony before dying, white mist forcing its way from his flesh.

Flaring his wings, a demon landed before Far-a-mael. 'You think to attack Hades and live?' The creature laughed and swung his scythe.

'I do.' Far-a-mael evaded the weapon easily and burrowed into the creature's aura. A moment later the silt hit the ground begging for mercy and crying like a child. Far-a-mael took his sword and ploughed it through the demon's heart. He smiled in satisfaction as its disgusting blue blood spilled onto the grass.

'Stop this!' a familiar voice cried. 'How could you? You haves trickst us.'

Far-a-mael turned around in time to see Seeol slam into him bodily. The two tumbled across the grass to the sound of Far-a-mael's breaking bones.

'Get off me.' Far-a-mael wrestled through mud and blood in an attempt to push Seeol away.

'You trickst me!' The man's face was red as he screamed. 'This ones are my friendlies. My friendlies! You is an evil, nasty monster.'

'Get off me.' Far-a-mael punched Seeol in the face, having to resort to physical violence in the absence of an aura. He heard some of his knuckles popping with the impact.

'Ouch,' Seeol moaned, holding his nose tentatively.

'I don't want to kill you.' Far-a-mael put his pistol between Seeol's eyes. 'Don't leave me without a choice.'

'You is killing my frienssshh,' Seeol sobbed and as he did so his tongue changed shape to that of an elf owl's. At the same time a silt hit the ground behind him and swung her sword.

'Watch out.' Far-a-mael tried to aim his pistol around the young man, but couldn't manage a clear shot.

'Ish!' Seeol cried unintelligibly, scratching at his mouth and bending over in pain. The sword flew over his head, spun in a complete circle--its owner having lost her grip--and plunged deep into the silt's throat. She fell to the earth, her eyes closing in death.

Panting loudly, Far-a-mael turned in a full circle to take in the destruction around him. Countless New World soldiers squirmed on the ground under attack by possessed angels, sieifts flooding away from their bodies as they died. Strands of light snapped about the air like whips as gil'hadoans danced expertly through the fray twisting and distorting silt auras as they went. Men were snatched from the ground between the razor-sharp talons of demons that hauled them into the sky only to be dropped from dizzying heights. Deadly black mist rose up from the battlefield as time after time the silts resurrected their fallen. A cloud of darkness billowed across the earth, opening up a gaping hole that swallowed countless soldiers who fell screaming into the abyss. A whisp sank into Elglair flesh and transformed the man into a hideous monster that roared and tore the heads off anyone who got close.

'Far-a-mael.' Tim-a-nie rushed over, slicing his sword through the belly of a silt as he went. 'We must make the call now. We're losing too many.'

'Yes.' Far-a-mael swallowed. 'It's time.'

'Shtop it,' Seeol gargled as he scurried off hunched over into the fray. Those who pursued him fell on their own swords or met an equally as unlikely fate.

'Give it to me,' Far-a-mael reached out to take the horn from Tim-a-nie. He put it to his lips and blew.

*

Seteal watched from the back of the wagon as man and silt fought for their lives. She huddled behind a pile of crates, fearing what would happen should she be revealed. There were silts out there with powers unlike anything she'd seen before. One of the formidable creatures killed a Jenjen soldier before her eyes and it struck Seteal as odd in some distant part of her mind. The strange silts only attacked the Jenjen and other New World soldiers, but never the Elglair.

As a Jenjen soldier's head hit the grass and white mist swept away from his flesh. Seteal gasped disbelievingly at what could only be described as a white whisp. The silt's head snapped in her direction and it lumbered toward the back of the wagon. Seteal scurried back into the depths, but it was too late. The silt had his eyes locked on her. It reached inside and clutched at her dress with a deathly white hand. It pulled her forward snarling and Seteal screamed in horror.

A horn sounded in the distance and the strange silt released her. Its head snapped around as if looking for something, Seteal all but forgotten. The silt leapt into the air and snatched at a regular demon who screamed as she was engulfed by white mist.

Curiosity driving her, Seteal shuffled toward the back of the wagon and peeked into the sky to find a sight that left her gaping. The silts with the lights above their heads had turned on the demons. The flow of battle changed. Silts were dying in increasing numbers, such that no one could find the time to resurrect them before they too were killed.

All was chaos. Seteal's vision blurred as her head was slammed against the side of the wagon. The crates she'd been hidden behind lifted into the air and the entire wagon toppled sideways. A drooling beast with great horns and sharp teeth stuck its head through the back and snapped at Seteal's feet.

'No!' she screamed. 'Get away!' She kicked at its face.

The beast groaned and pulled its head out of the wagon. Surely Seteal couldn't have hurt it that bad . . . and she hadn't. Seeol stood outside using his sword to hack repeatedly at the beast's neck until he'd severed it. He waved for Seteal to follow, but refused to utter so much as a word. There was something wrong with him. He seemed smaller and hunched over. Seteal's eyes widened as feathers started sprouting from his face. 'Oh, Seeol,' she gasped.

'Pleash!' the bird-man cried. 'Not safety,' he finally managed. 'Pleash . . . is coming.'

'Who's coming?' Seteal asked nervously.

'Pleash,' Seeol beckoned her to leave the safety of the wagon.

After a moment's hesitation, Seteal thrust herself forward, took Seeol's hand and leapt free of the wagon as the earth shuddered beneath them and a gaping hole slithered across the battlefield. The wagon moaned and rolled backward into a seemingly bottomless pit. Seteal held her stomach as she was dragged along by Seeol. The earth tilted. Rocks and debris slid away and Seteal began to lose her grip. Seeol picked her up and threw her forward onto the stable land ahead of them before trying and failing to scurry up the length of the falling chunk of earth.

'Seeol!' Seteal screamed. 'Take my hand!' She laid as flat as she could and stretched out toward him.

'Seteal!' His eyes became wide with fear as he dove for Seteal's hand. Their fingers touched, but the land fell away too soon and Seeol was lost, flailing into darkness.

'No,' Seteal choked out as she watched him fall, rocks and boulders too soon obscuring him from view. 'Please, Seeol,' Seteal sobbed through gritted teeth, unable to tear her eyes from the endless crevice in the land. 'Come back.'

As though in answer to her plea, a creature no larger than a dog beat his poorly developed wings in an attempt to escape the abyss. 'Oh, Seeol,' Seteal gasped as a beak formed on his face and his body shrank further, becoming much better suited to his wings. By the time he'd reached solid ground, Seeol stared up at Seteal, once again no more than an elf owl. 'Thank you,' Seteal whispered, taking in the destruction surrounding them.

The army of New World had been victorious and a group of strangely dressed Elglair stood grouped together with Far-a-mael several hundred strides away. One by one the silts with the flickering lights above their heads landed beside them in allegiance. Seteal stared at their blank faces and guessed that they'd been affiliated. Far-a-mael was using them as weapons, just as he'd originally intended for Seteal.

The Jenjen were crippled brutally and many looked disillusioned by the absence of their Holy Spirit in their hour of need. 'It's over, Seeol. You have to stop this.'

'Yes,' Seeol spoke softly. His voice was forlorn. 'Is not a Holy Sprit. Is just an elf owl.'

Seteal disappeared. The owl became a speck on the ground that soon faded to nothing as she was jostled into the sky, sharp metal talons tearing at her leg and back. 'Let go,' Seteal shrieked, pummelling the demon with her fists.

'Are you sure?'

'Don't let go.' Seteal gaped at the world dangling below her feet. 'Please don't let go.' She gazed in dismay at the countless fires and rivers of purple mixed human and silt blood. White and black whisps churned around each other, circling like hungry dogs before violently cancelling the other out.

'Too late,' the silt hissed, thrusting Seteal forward and opening his toes. She screamed, for the first time not only fearing for her own life, but that of her child. Instinctively Seteal lunged for the Ways, but felt nothing other than a solid wall. The world lurched toward her and there was nothing she could do.

Matt-hew 24

31. And he shall send his angels with the great sound of a trumpet, and they shall gather with his elect from the north, having come from one end of Hades to the other.

Scriptures of the Holy Tome
CHAPTER TWENTY

THE INNER MONSTER

Ilgrin beat his wings harder than he ever had. His crown was too cumbersome to wear during flight, so he clutched it protectively as he tore through the sky. In the distance he saw countless silts swooping and diving above a crowd of screaming humans. Every natural instinct told Ilgrin to turn around and free El-i-miir, but his sensibility knew that the lives of thousands were more important than just one. And Teah had promised to ensure no harm would come to her while he was away.

'Stop!' Ilgrin shouted as he closed in, but his voice was snatched away, another voice lost among the battle-cries of war. The scene before him was one of total devastation. The Elglair were a powerful enemy to silts, physical strength having little value against those with the power to manipulate one's soul. 'Stop!'

'Who are you?' a silt asked as he matched Ilgrin's flight-pattern.

'The Devil,' Ilgrin waved the crown in the man's face.

'It cannot be.' The silt recoiled beneath his blue military uniform.

'It is,' Ilgrin snarled. 'Spread the news. This war must . . .' He trailed off, his eyes locking on a sight that made his blood run cold.

There, in the middle distance, a silt swooped over the ground above a mighty gorge. His toes closed around a pregnant woman and snatched her into the air. The pair ascended. Ilgrin twisted his wings dangerously and fought for a new destination.

'Hold on, Seteal,' he begged over the wind. 'Just hold on.' Ilgrin tumbled through the air, winded by a knock to the side. He turned to find his attacker was an angel. 'I thought you were on our side.'

'We've never been on your side, silt,' the angel said with all the malice his Elglair puppet-master could muster.

Ilgrin doubled his efforts in getting away, but as he flew he felt a deep ache beginning in his bones and leaching from his flesh. The ache became agony and his flight faltered. Raising his hands before his eyes, Ilgrin watched as a sieift started oozing from his flesh.

'Stop,' he cried weakly before plummeting, his wings having become too weak to support him.

An arrow slid through the air, likely intended for Ilgrin, but instead struck the angel. The creature fell away and having lost its hold, Ilgrin turned his attention back to Seteal. Scanning the sky, he found it impossible to locate her. Silts were flashing in every direction carrying men and women, tearing them apart or simply dropping them to their bloody deaths. It was only when a sharp scream pierced the darkness that Ilgrin was able to find Seteal, her captor having released her.

Ilgrin banked sharply after the woman and snatched her from the air. 'Ilgrin?' She gaped in surprise as he moved her from his toes to his arms, cradling her protectively while making sure to keep the crown from touching her.

'We really must stop meeting this way,' Ilgrin said once they'd landed safely. 'What's going on with the angels?'

'Angels?' Seteal appeared to be confused for a moment, but then her eyes widened in realisation. 'That's what they are? I think they're all possessed.'

'I know that,' Ilgrin replied. 'Those Elglair work for us.'

'I don't think they do,' Seteal said, shaking her head. 'The Elglair work for nobody but themselves.'

'But that's . . .' Ilgrin frowned and turned his attention to the sky. 'You're right.' He swallowed as angels dipped and turned, no longer pursuing humans, but demons. Time after time, the demons fell to the mighty force of angelic power and plummeted dead or dying through the air.

'What's that?' Seteal frowned at the large crown gripped in Ilgrin's hands.

'There's no time.' He gritted his teeth. 'I have to stop this before it's too late. Far-a-mael might've won the battle, but I'm not done with him yet.'

'What do you mean?' Seteal bit her lip, but Ilgrin ignored her and leapt into the throngs of battle.

'Retreat,' Ilgrin shouted, waving the crown about his head as he banked and swept through the crowded sky. 'In the name of your Devil, Sa'Enoch, I order you to retreat to Hel!'

Progress was slow, but as increasing numbers of silts heard his words and saw the crown they started following Ilgrin's command. Much to his relief, the angels did not follow. He glanced back in dismay at the sheer volume of dead on the ground and realised that his first challenge in getting his people to follow his lead would be in convincing them that it was unacceptable to resurrect the fallen.

By the time Ilgrin reached the tree, he was blind with fury. He slammed against the bark and roared like the demon he was before scampering up the side using fingers and toes, accomplishing that which was impossible to weak humans. No more pretence. No more illusions. It was time to embrace his inhumanity. Ilgrin leapt through one of the entry points and guessed his way through countless tunnels before entering the main chamber. From there he half-flew, half-fell to the ground floor and made his way toward the roots.

'You,' Ilgrin snapped as he passed a servant. 'Take me to the dungeon.'

'And who might you be?' The servant narrowed his eyes at Ilgrin's plain and rather unusual clothes. Ilgrin raised his crown. 'This way.' The silt stumbled back and would've fallen if not for the dexterous use of his wings.

The roots consisted of dark, closed-in tunnels that wove up and down and all around the place. Lanterns were placed sparsely, the atmosphere almost becoming pitch-black before the next would appear. The walls were constructed from stone, but here and there the root system itself had been hollowed out and adopted as a passageway. Eventually they came to a large door guarded by two rather muscular silts.

'Where's Du'Noah?' Ilgrin snapped.

'Inside, my Devil.' The guard kept his eyes respectfully lowered.

'Well?' Ilgrin barked. 'Let me in.' The big man fumbled with his keys but his hands were shaking too much to function. 'Oh, for Maker's sake,' Ilgrin growled, snatching the keys from his hands and shoving them one by one into the lock until it turned with a loud clunk. 'Stay out here,' he snarled. 'And you,' he called to the first servant. 'Find me clothing befitting of a king!'

'A king?' The man quivered.

'A Devil . . . whatever,' Ilgrin snapped irritably. 'Just find something respectable.'

He slammed the door and the sound echoed repeatedly from the surrounding walls. 'Noah! Where are you?' The room consisted of a long hallway with cages lining the sides. 'Show yourself.'

'What do you want?' the man replied from several cages away. 'Have you come to gloat?'

'Not at all,' Ilgrin replied, making his way steadily to the tired looking silt. Not only had he been arrested, but it appeared he'd also received a fairly decent beating. 'What do you know about this foolish alliance your father made with the Elglair?'

'It was no alliance,' Noah hissed furiously. 'Humans are never our equals. They're underlings. It is we who have our origins in Hae'Evun! Some Elglair were wise enough to realise that and agreed to work as Sa'Tanists.'

'Fools.' Ilgrin punched the wall only to groan at the pain it caused him. 'How can you all have been so stupid? The Elglair are the most ruthless, obnoxious, self-consumed people in the world. They care for nothing and nobody outside of their own society.'

'What're you saying?'

'The angels changed sides.' Ilgrin shook his head in disgust. 'That means the Elglair affiliating them did, too.'

'Impossible,' Noah said dismissively. 'Those Elglair have been serving us for a hundred years.'

'Don't you see?' Ilgrin said bitterly. 'The Elglair would feign loyalty for a thousand years if it meant a tactical advantage. They were never Sa'Tanists. They're Frozen Land spies.'

'I don't believe you,' Noah uttered, his smile having vanished.

'Really?' Ilgrin began pacing anxiously. 'Whose idea was it?'

'I don't understand.'

'Whose idea was it?' Ilgrin shouted. 'A hundred years ago when our ancestors decided to have the angels affiliated to kill whoever they couldn't, whose idea was it?'

Noah swallowed and his eyes revealed dismay. 'The Elglair approached us.'

'The Elglair had you murder your own protectors,' Ilgrin said coldly. 'Now the only angels left are under their control.'

'Torrid,' Noah whispered.

'Torrid is right.' Ilgrin nodded before turning to leave.

When he reached the throne room, Ilgrin was pleased to find neatly folded clothing prepared by his servant. He changed into the royal garments coloured in dazzling blues and flowing gold. The table at the far side of the room had been trained away from the floor, but the throne was something else entirely. The large chair was made of precious metals and encrusted with expensive-looking stones. The back was slender, allowing for the Devil's wings to move freely behind it.

Four silt generals soon arrived and stood around the table, awaiting Ilgrin's command. Still uncertain of what to say, Ilgrin simply sat on his throne and stared dead ahead.

'So let me get this straight. About a hundred or so years ago my great-grandfather was approached by a small group of affiliates.'

'That's correct,' General Li'John replied.

'The Elglair struck a deal with your people,' Ilgrin stated. 'They promised to affiliate the angels that kept the Devil under their thumb in exchange for what?'

'The Devil would have complete freedom,' Li'John replied. 'The Elglair would become the highest ranked Sa'Tanists and be granted all of the privileges that came with the position. They were given endless luxuries and wealth.'

'So the Elglair affiliated the commanding angels and used them against their own kind in the angel hunts that have continued to this day,' Ilgrin confirmed. 'They killed most of them, but kept some under constant affiliation to be used in battle or when the generation of a sieift was required.'

'That's correct,' another of the generals confirmed with a nod.

'But then we got onto the battlefield today . . .' Ilgrin trailed off.

'It was a trap . . .' Li'John's eyes showed his devastation. 'One hundred years in the making.'

'And now Far-a-mael has an army of angels, which he undoubtedly plans to use against us.'

'That's about the gist of it.' John swallowed nervously.

'Are silts ordinarily so foolish?' Ilgrin said angrily, stepping down from his throne.

'The Devil wanted his freedom,' John said slowly. 'He made a mistake in trusting the Elglair, but it seemed like a good arrangement.'

'The Elglair are not to be trusted,' Ilgrin spat. 'I've seen them for what they are. They prance about arrogantly. They think they're so perfect, hidden away in their Frozen Lands. They look down their noses at everyone else. I've been there, you know.' Ilgrin shuddered, remembering the tortures imposed on him. 'They will not get away with it this time. Please excuse me.' Ilgrin dismissed the generals. 'I need time to think.'

'My Devil,' each of the men said with respect as they left.

'Bring her to me, Adam.' Ilgrin turned to the servant waiting by the door.

'Now?' Adam asked. 'Don't you think you should first address the people? They want to know what's happened to their Devil and why you've ordered a retreat.'

'I will see her first,' Ilgrin snapped. 'Bring her to me.'

'Of course, your highness.' Adam bowed out of the room.

Ilgrin moved back to his throne, put a hand on the armrest and exhaled slowly. He removed the rather gaudy-looking crown from his head and placed it on the cushioned seat. He didn't want El-i-miir to see him wearing it. He wasn't sure why he felt that way, but was absolutely resolute. Perhaps he felt ashamed, but ashamed of what, he couldn't say. Was he embarrassed by his demonic heritage? Had he grown accustomed to making himself as human as possible for El-i-miir's sake?

'Ilgrin.' Teah stepped into the room wearing a flowing black dress. 'I sent the guard to collect Jakob from the cliffs. He'll get quite a fright, but I didn't think such a task would be fitting of your new station.'

'Jakob is my friend.' Ilgrin turned sharply. What was wrong with him? He felt so defensive, snapping at the slightest thing. 'Why wouldn't I have time for a friend?'

'Because there is much work to be done,' Teah said hesitantly. 'You didn't think your responsibilities would come to an end once you had the crown, did you?'

'I don't know what to think.' Ilgrin's shoulders slumped, his wings reaching the floor. 'This is all happening so quickly. I feel like I'm losing myself. I am Ilgrin Geld, son of Baen and Urelie Geld. I'm a farmer's boy from Sitnic.'

'And nobody can take that away from you.' Teah took Ilgrin's hand and looked him in the eye. He was taken by surprise, noticing for the first time that Teah's eyes contained the same mix of squirming colours as her halo. 'You'll always be Ilgrin in here.' The angel tapped his chest. 'But out there, you have to be the Devil, Sa'Enoch.'

'Ilgrin?' El-i-miir said. She was a silhouette in the doorway. There was no way of knowing how long she'd been there. Teah released Ilgrin's hand and backed away. 'I'm so sorry,' El-i-miir sobbed, rushing forward with her hair in disarray and drab blue dress trailing. 'I never should've said those things to you. I regretted it. I did. I came after you.'

'That's enough,' Ilgrin said coldly.

'They tell me you're the Devil,' El-i-miir blathered on through tears. 'That's why Gez-reil was so insistent about you coming down here. He knew you could bring an end to this madness--stop the war before it really gets going.'

'You've been so sheltered your whole life.' Ilgrin took a step away. 'You're so childish.'

'Ilgrin.' The pain was clear in El-i-miir's voice. 'I said I was sorry. I . . . I love you.'

'I can't give out magical orders that'll end this war.' Ilgrin stared at her with contempt. 'Far-a-mael will return. He'll do so again and again and again. There is no peaceful way of stopping this. You forget how well I know him, El-i-miir. He is ruthless and he will stop at nothing. Not until either your kind or mine have been wiped out.'

'What're you saying?' El-i-miir's lip quivered, her eyes widening with disbelief.

'I'm declaring war on the Elglair.' Ilgrin's eyes became hard and merciless. 'And having said that, I'd advise you to run.'

'You wouldn't!' El-i-miir cried. 'Don't do this!'

'Escort her out of the tree.' Ilgrin waved his hand at the guards by the door. 'She is to be sent north. Any silt to touch a hair on her head will be executed.'

'Ilgrin!' El-i-miir cried as the guards snatched at her arms and dragged her out of the room. 'Don't! Please don't do this.'

'Go home, El-i-miir,' Ilgrin said coldly, 'and never return.'

'Let go,' the Elglair woman snapped, releasing her powers of affiliation to send her captors scurrying in opposite directions. 'I was wrong about you.' She glared furiously. 'You are a monster,' she stated fatalistically and left, her eyes filled with disgust.

Genesis 3

14. And the Lord Maker said unto Sa'Tan, "Because thou hast done this, thou art cursed above all souls, and above every beast of the field. Upon the Earth shalt thou go, and persecution shalt thou suffer all the days of thy life.

15. And I will put enmity between thee and Hae'Evun, and between thy seed and the seed of Hae'Evun: It shall bruise thy head, as thou have bruised its heel."

Scriptures of the Holy Tome
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

HOME

Seteal raced through the bloody sludge underfoot. Occasionally she was forced to manoeuvre around a dead body or skip past a demon begging for life on his dying breath. 'Briel,' Seteal called as she approached the large man, slumped against a rocky outcrop. 'Briel.' She slid to a stop and leaned over the Merry Islander.

'Seteal,' the big man sobbed. 'I got her inside as quickly as I be able. But I nah know,' he wailed.

'This way.' Seeol bounced across the ground and dashed between two large boulders into a dark cave. Seteal followed the bird inside. It wasn't very deep, allowing only enough room for two people and Seteal couldn't help but wonder how Briel had managed to get inside at all. Fes was curled up against the back wall. Her eyes were shut and her breath came in shuddering bursts.

'What happened?' Seteal gaped at a large and bloody wound on the side of Fes's head. Briel had clearly tried to bandage it with a strip of his shirt, but blood was seeping through.

'The wagon,' Briel replied bitterly. 'It crushed her. I be havin' ta drag her free.'

'I don't think anything is broken,' Seteal tried to reassure the man as she stretched out Fes's limbs in search of anything amiss. Doubling over suddenly, Seteal clutched at her stomach and waited until the wave of nausea had passed. She exhaled and pushed her way out of the cave to sit with Briel.

'Ye should go, love.' Briel sighed. 'Get yeself to safety before they be sendin' someone back ta raise this lot from the dead.'

'I'm not leaving you,' Seteal said softly. 'All we can do is wait and make Fes as comfortable as possible. Seeol,' Seteal said, turning to the owl. 'Could you find out if anyone else is around? Find Far-a-mael, but don't let him see you.'

'Yes,' Seeol replied, fluttering into the air.

'He's an owl again,' Briel noted.

'Yes, he is.' Seteal shrugged.

When Seeol returned a few moments later, he did so reporting Far-a-mael's whereabouts as being a good mile away with his gathering of possessed silts and affiliate Elglair. The other armies of New World had regrouped and seemed to be awaiting Far-a-mael's command. Except, of course, for the Jenjen, who'd been all but destroyed on the front lines. They'd held nothing back on account of faith in their Holy Spirit and had suffered immeasurably because of it.

It wasn't until the following morning that Fes woke up, Seteal having remained with Briel the entire night. The woman was groggy and seemed a bit off-balance, but otherwise well enough.

'I hate ta push ye,' Briel held his wife's hand, 'but we da need ta get away from here. It nah be safe.'

'I understand,' Fes said tiredly, leaning heavily on her husband's shoulder. 'He be an owl again.' She noticed Seeol perched on Seteal's arm.

'Yes.' Seeol bobbed his head. 'Is happily.'

'I'll kill it,' a girl shrieked as someone raced up behind them. Seeol's head was still in mid-bob when Ieane snatched him from Seteal's arm and squeezed him tight.

'Ieane, don't!' Seteal tried to warn the girl, but already it was too late.

A nearby tree had somehow sustained damage during the battle and it was in that exact moment that its trunk gave out and snapped. The top half of the tree swung toward the earth and landed on an elongated stone whose end reached away from the ground. The force of the impact pushed the upper side of the stone against the ground and the lower side flung into the air. Quite by chance, the other side had had a smaller rock perched at the end, which was then forcefully catapulted into the air. The rock flew directly at Ieane's head and cracked against her skull. Crying out in pain she, released Seeol, who quickly flew back to Seteal.

'You're not the Holy Spirit,' the girl wailed hysterically. 'They were right all along. You're just a vile, whisp-mutilated abomination.'

'Sorry,' Seeol said quietly, his face downcast.

'You've destroyed us.' Ieane gagged at the death surrounding them and put a hand over the bruise forming on the side of her head. 'That was everything our military had. We've lost everything.'

'You told me!' Seeol screeched.

'What?' Ieane waved her hands in frustration.

'You tolds me I was the sprit,' Seeol's voice was filled with pain. 'I believed all of you and you. I wanted to be a good and happy sprit and to cuddle because you is always telling me that I am one.'

'You know what you are.' Ieane narrowed her eyes angrily. 'You're the disgusting thing: a curse and a false prophet. You took advantage of my people and when the time comes, Maker will make you pay.'

'I am so horrible!' Seeol cried before burrowing into the depths of Seteal's collar.

'Now you've gone and upset him,' Seteal said crossly. 'I'll be lucky to get him out by the end of the day.'

'I be needin' water,' Fes said breathily.

'We have ta be goin',' Briel encouraged, turning to Ieane. 'Go home, girl.'

'I can't,' Ieane sobbed. 'I have nothing left. I can't spend another second serving Harundor.'

'I thought you liked Jenjol.' Seteal frowned as they moved off with Ieane scurrying after them.

'The king had my father assassinated when he decided he wanted my mother in his bed.' Ieane's eyes welled with tears. 'When she spoke out about what he'd done, he had her killed, too. I don't know why he kept me in service--maybe so that he could have his way with me when I got a little older.'

'Well, you're welcome to come along.' Seteal shrugged. 'Where are we going exactly?' She directed this at the Merry Islanders.

'You're going home, Seteal.' Briel looked over her pregnant body with sad eyes. 'We're taking you home.'

'Home?' Seeol echoed longingly from his place in Seteal's collar.

'Yes, Seeol,' Seteal said softly, barely able to understand the kindness Briel had spoken. 'We're going home.'

*

The almost-full moon was surrounded by white clouds and an array of stars that suddenly vanished from view in the southern sky to be replaced by nothing but darkness. It wasn't as cold as winter, but the persistent wind made sleeping in the open decidedly uncomfortable for Seeol's human friends.

Seeol tilted his head, having spotted a moth fluttering passed in the moonlight. He measured the distance perfectly before springing into the air and snapping his talons around it. Seeol was sad . . . and yet overjoyed. He was miserable that once again he was nothing more than a bird, with no higher purpose or meaning. But at the same time, he'd never felt so uncomfortable than as he did as a human. Seeol chomped gleefully on his prey as it squirmed between his toes.

They'd travelled only a few short hours before giving in to exhaustion, the battle having drained everyone of energy. As much as he'd tried, Seeol had been unable to find them shelter. Unaccustomed to sleeping outdoors, Ieane had wanted to push on in the hopes of reaching Kintor, but Fes's head injury gave Briel cause to refuse. So there they slept, close together and yet spread out, with nothing other than the trees and a small rocky outcrop to protect them. Well . . . except for Seeol. They had him, too.

Seeol hopped across the grass to stare intently at Seteal's massive head. He hadn't left the safety of her collar all day, waiting until nightfall to do so. Ieane didn't like him anymore and it made him sad--but, then again, he supposed most Jenjen wouldn't like him anymore. He was under no illusions. Deep down, Seeol knew that even Seteal, the one he considered his closest friend, only tolerated his presence out of pity.

Stretching his neck, Seeol replicated the sound of a human kiss and pressed his beak against Seteal's forehead. She squirmed as though something had upset her, but did not wake from her slumber. Her baby was making her sick. Poor Seteal. Seeol spotted a beetle burrowing into the leaves several strides away, flew over and snatched it up. Even though it was delicious, he'd have preferred one of the green lizards native to Narvon Wood. Seeol did so look forward to going home.

Casting a protective glance over the bodies of his friends, Seeol found himself debating whether they would be all right without him for a short while. After fluttering into a nearby tree, he turned his head this way and that. He knew the odds of finding a green lizard were rather slim, but he was optimistic nevertheless. It was from the top of the tree that he noticed something unusual.

In the distance, there was a small campfire. At first he was excited by the prospect of food. Human campfires were brilliantly apt at attracting all sorts of delicious creatures. Still, Seeol couldn't help but hesitate. He didn't want to leave his friends unprotected and in his experience strangers had often proven to be dangerous. Nevertheless, he could see no harm in taking a closer look.

Buffeted along on the wind, Seeol flew south, not for the first time being taken by surprise by the black skies. It was confusing. He was almost certain the darkness had strayed further north every time he looked at it. More and more stars had vanished. Unable to make sense of the phenomenon, Seeol chose to ignore it and continued toward the campfire.

After landing in a nearby tree, he found himself peering down at a slender figure wrapped in a cloak with the hood pulled forward. When slender hands were extended over the fire, Seeol immediately recognised them.

'El-i-miish!' he cried gleefully, fluttering down to meet her.

'Seeol.' El-i-miir was startled and glanced over in surprise.

'Hello,' Seeol called, bouncing into the light of the fire to stare up into El-i-miir's beautiful blue eyes. She'd been crying. 'I've missinged you,' he said warmly.

'Where are the others?' El-i-miir squirmed away from him. 'Is everyone okay? I saw the mess left by yesterday's battle and to be honest, I feared the worst.'

'Seteal and Briel and Fes and Ieane.' Seeol bobbed his head excitedly.

'Yes?' El-i-miir encouraged. 'What about them?'

'They is fine,' Seeol replied, thinking it obvious. 'We are so taking Seteal home.'

'She's returning to Elmsville?' El-i-miir said in astonishment. 'Where is she? I need to see her right away.'

*

'Seteal,' El-i-miir's voice carved into Seteal's unconsciousness and drove her into the waking world.

'El-i-miir?' Seteal replied groggily, rolling over and lifting her head. Her stomach weighed so much that she felt the need to drag it into a sitting position as she went. 'What're you doing here? Did you find Ilgrin?' Seteal cast her eyes about in search of the demon.

'No,' El-i-miir replied. 'I mean yes, but he's not here.'

'Where is he?'

'It doesn't matter,' El-i-miir said irritably. 'You're going home?'

'Yes, I am.' Seteal sighed, quickly losing patience with El-i-miir's authoritative tone. 'Briel and Fes have offered to help me.' She nodded toward the two Merry Islanders as they stood tiredly in the early morning light.

'You can't go home,' El-i-miir snapped. 'There's a war going on. Ilgrin has pronounced war on the Elglair.'

'Ilgrin?' Ieane made her presence known, her face showing confusion. 'Who's Ilgrin?'

'He's the Devil,' El-i-miir acknowledged reluctantly.

'Ilgrin?' Briel shook his head. 'He's nah the Devil.'

'He is,' El-i-miir insisted. 'It's a long story, but apparently he's the descendent of Sa'Tan and the rightful heir to the throne. That's why the previous Devil's people were trying to assassinate him.'

'And Ilgrin has decided to keep this war going?' Seteal asked, although admittedly she wasn't entirely surprised.

'Yes,' El-i-miir said heatedly. 'He told me he wants to wage war on the Elglair.'

'El-i-miir . . .' Seteal shook her head, slowly clambering to her feet. 'You've got it backward. The Elglair waged war on Old World. If Ilgrin is the Devil, he likely feels responsible for defending his people. He is one of them, you know.'

'Whatever.' El-i-miir gritted her teeth. 'Maybe you could talk some sense into him.'

'Me?' Seteal recoiled. 'Forget it. I'm done with this mess.'

'Home.' Seeol bobbed his head enthusiastically before fluttering up and slithering his way into Seteal's collar.

'Look,' Seteal's voice softened as she watched El-i-miir's face fall, 'there's nothing more we can do. I'm not sure there ever really was.'

'You're powerful,' El-i-miir threw out her hands in frustration. 'You can stop it.'

'I'm not powerful,' Seteal snapped back. 'Far-a-mael embedded my aura with an anchor. I doubt I could have so much as a knowing, let alone project my soul.'

'What happened to you?' El-i-miir narrowed her eyes as she peered into Seteal's aura, her lip shaking fearfully. 'The child!'

'Unless you can remove the anchor, I have nothing more to say.' Seteal turned aggressively, refusing to speak about the baby's whisp-affected condition.

'I can't remove this.' El-i-miir squinted. 'It's moving constantly and embedded so deep that I doubt even Far-a-mael could pick it out.'

'Then there's nothing more I can do,' Seteal said plainly. 'The world will be all but destroyed and I have to give my child the best chance at life I can.'

'The world will be destroyed?' El-i-miir said in disgust. 'You're such a defeatist.'

'No,' Seteal snapped. 'I'm a mother.'

'Maker damn it,' El-i-miir turned her back and remained silent for a long time. Finally, her shoulders slumped and she turned around. 'You're right.'

'Excuse me?' Seteal asked, hardly able to believe her ears.

'You're right,' El-i-miir repeated softly. 'I've recently learnt of horrible things . . . horrible things that the Elglair have done to angels. Ilgrin has every right to be angry. I just wish there was another way: something we could do, but there's nothing, is there?'

'Come with us, dear.' Fes put an arm around the young woman's shoulders.

El-i-miir's eyes filled with tears and she nodded woefully. 'I thought he was one of us.'

'Ilgrin has ta da what he be thinkin' is best,' Fes said softly. 'We all da.'

*

'Quickly,' Far-a-mael ordered as he limped across the battlefield looking for signs of life. 'You have to make sure every last one of them is dead or else they'll all start coming back. Sever the heads with your silver blades,' he ordered the an'hadoans.

'What do you intend we do now?' Tim-a-nie approached Far-a-mael nervously as the War Elder fished a tooth out of his mouth and spat it into the dirt. 'Do we still go on knowing as little as we do?'

'Tim-a-nie, my good man,' Far-a-mael barked. 'I will ride north to gather reinforcements. You must carry on south with the armies of New World. If all goes accordingly, you'll have conquered Hel by the time of my return.'

'Are you certain?' Tim-a-nie asked through narrowed eyes. 'There may be legions other than those in Hel.'

'If that's the case, simply wait for my return,' Far-a-mael grumbled. 'Maintain your hold on Hel until I get there. I have faith in you.'

As Far-a-mael galloped into the distance, he turned his attention to the whisp-darkened skies. He hadn't simply imagined it. The great cloud had moved north, but he couldn't make sense as to why. It'd remained in place for thousands of years. Why start moving now?

'Please,' a young silt gargled, dark blue blood trickling from his mouth. 'Help me.'

'A live one,' Far-a-mael murmured, making his way over to the creature. 'I'm sure you fought bravely,' he uttered, pushing his blade into the creature's neck until he was satisfied that it was dead.

*

The royal gowns billowed about Ilgrin's feet as he paced his private quarters in contemplation of his next move. He needed to ensure the inhabitants of Hades wouldn't cast him aside as a simple farmer's boy. He had to make an impression.

'So you're telling me Hel is the largest legion in all of Hades?'

'That's correct,' General Li'John replied. 'Lesser legions such as Sodom and Gomorrah are still standing strong, but the likes of Gahanna were completely overrun by whisp infestation some twenty years ago. Anyone left alive fled to Hades as refugees.'

'Did you know about this?' Ilgrin turned to Jakob.

'Of course.' Jakob shrugged. 'But I also knew it was irrelevant. Demons are superior to humans in strength and in many other ways. With help from the lesser legions, we'll defeat New World with ease.'

'Not with angelic protection,' Ilgrin growled. 'Anyway, it's not New World I wish to conquer. It's the Elglair.'

'And?' John tilted his head.

'Jakob.' Ilgrin turned to the human. 'I want every last Sa'Tanist spy we've got to get close to the Elglair. I want to know what they're doing before they do it. When the time is right, we'll attack with everything we have. And I want those angels freed and back on our side.'

'Certainly, Sa'Enoch.' Jakob scurried out of the room obediently.

'But it was us who betrayed the angels,' John stated sceptically.

'They will answer to their Devil,' Ilgrin replied with more confidence than he felt.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

A TURN FOR THE WORST

The sun bit into Seteal's flesh as she forced one heavy leg in front of the other. Sweat trailed down her forehead and into her eyes as the sunlight became ever brighter. The piercing blue sky twisted above her at a sickening pace and Seteal hit the ground with a thud.

'Ma'am?' a voice enquired softly before two large hands shook her.

'What?' Seteal moaned, acknowledging the uncomfortable feeling of dirt on the side of her face. As she lifted her head and turned around the world swam back into focus. Seteal screamed. A grizzled old farmer filled her vision.

'Don't be like that.' The man put a hand around her arm. 'I just want to help you. It's no bother.'

'No!' Seteal heard herself cry out at the eerily familiar words. 'Get away from me!' She tore free of Fasil's grip. 'Get off me! Get off me! Get off me!' Seteal shrieked, struggling against the man's grip, fearing a fate worse than death. But the stranger hadn't been Master Fasil at all and he'd released her immediately.

The old man stumbled backward, an expression of disbelief on his face. 'You deal with her,' he spat defensively when Briel approached. 'There's something wrong with the girl.'

'Seteal.' Briel put a hand on her shoulder. 'I'll be helpin' ye get up now, okay?'

'What happened?' Seteal shuddered nervously as Briel lifted her to a sitting position.

'Ye fell down.' He patted her back. 'Do ye nah remember?'

Seteal ignored him and took in her surroundings. The city was bustling. They'd arrived in Kintor. The day's heat was blistering. 'Might we find a place to rest?'

'Rest?' An elderly voice pierced the air as an old woman approached. 'You're fit to do nothing but rest until that baby gets here. You all should be ashamed of yourselves.' She glared at the others and waggled a finger under Seteal's nose. 'Where's your husband? I'd quite like a word with him.'

'He died in battle,' Seteal mumbled with her eyes lowered, unable to admit the truth.

'I see,' replied the old woman. 'Well, you'd best come and stay with me and I won't take no for an answer.'

'That be all right.' Briel raised his hands to reject the offer. 'We'll just be stayin' at the inn.'

'For a month or so?' The old woman cackled. 'I'm sorry, sir, but you don't look like you're worth that much. My house needs some fixing up. You can repay me in that way, but please let this poor girl have some rest.'

'Nah,' Briel said firmly.

'Briel,' Fes uttered. 'We've nah got money.'

'It's settled, then,' the bony old lady nodded in satisfaction. 'I'm Mistress Daorey. This way.' She turned and headed along the street without a backward glance.

'Come on, dearie.' Fes helped Seteal to her feet and offered a shoulder for support before following after the forceful woman.

It wasn't long before Seteal found herself once again feeling too dizzy to move and Briel had to all but carry her. A cold hand squeezed her arm and Seteal looked around to see El-i-miir smiling reassuringly. Why was her hand so cold? Surely she had to have been feeling the heat. She was from the Frozen Lands for Maker's sake. A glance about the street revealed countless strangers going about their day dressed in flowing gowns and warm cloaks. Seteal was astounded. What was wrong with them? The heat was insufferable.

Seteal's legs buckled beneath her and Briel grunted as he moved to compensate. Head rolling forward, Seteal watched her feet being dragged along the ground. She giggled and sniffled her runny nose. A strange taste filled her mouth. A droplet fell away to make the dirt red where it landed. Seteal lifted her hand, uneasily touching her nose, only to pull it away covered in blood.

A door opened and the air became cooler. Seteal's head hit the wall as Briel stumbled. Fes reprimanded him harshly, but Seteal had scarcely noticed the impact. There was a bed beneath her and someone removed her shoes. A moment later El-i-miir used a towel to clean Seteal's nose, her face full of concern. Seteal wanted to tell her not to worry but she couldn't find the strength to speak.

Master Fasil smiled and winked at her from his place leaning against the doorframe. 'It's all because you couldn't keep your legs together,' he laughed eerily.

'It's not true,' Seteal felt herself whisper inaudibly.

'What is it, Seteal?' El-i-miir's face hovered in her vision. 'You have to tell me what's happening to you.'

'It's . . .' Seteal wheezed, staring past El-i-miir to look Master Fasil in his smug little eye. 'It wasn't my fault. You did this to me.'

'What's happening to her?' El-i-miir's face shrivelled into the distance. 'It's like she's delirious.' She floated toward Fes, vanishing in and out of reality as she went.

'I nah know much.' Fes's voice was too loud. 'She was with Far-a-mael and whisps be gettin' in her. She's nah been the same ever since.'

'Stop shouting,' Seteal screamed, but no one seemed able to hear her.

'Sweetheart.' Master Fasil sat at the end of the bed. 'I'll take care of you. We're going to be parents.'

'Torrid,' Seteal squeezed out. 'Go to torrid.' She moved her fingers to her mouth and bit hard at her fingernails until again she tasted blood.

'Seteal!' El-i-miir rushed over and pulled Seteal's hands away from her mouth. 'Don't do that.'

Seteal kicked and moaned in her sheets, the nausea in her stomach becoming painfully overwhelming. She saw through a film of red. She was crying tears of blood.

'I've nah seen anything like it,' Briel's voice rumbled fearfully.

'It be the madness,' Fes whispered solemnly.

'All we can do is keep her comfortable.' Mistress Daorey trickled into the room, her skeletal form rocking toward Seteal, driving her heart into her throat.

Get it away! she screamed internally, whilst failing to produce any words. 'No!' she cried, her eyes locked on the strange old woman. Who was she? She couldn't be trusted! 'No,' Seteal moaned and pushed herself sideways in an effort to escape. Rolling off the bed, she hit the floorboards with a thud. El-i-miir and Ieane dove forward to catch her, but they were too late. Now there was a splinter in her thumb. She'd have to get it out. Briel picked her up and put her back to bed.

'She be terribly hot,' Fes said worriedly, dabbing her forehead with a wet towel. 'She almost be too hot ta touch.'

'Oh,' Seteal moaned, having lost the ability to hold her bladder. Even through her misery she felt terribly embarrassed. She lifted her head in humiliation, but where she'd expected to see a pool of urine was just more blood. 'Please.' She clutched El-i-miir's dress and clung to it weakly. 'Please get me out of here.'

'I can't, Seteal.' El-i-miir stroked her hair. 'You're too sick. You have to rest.'

'Not out of here,' Seteal moaned. 'Out of here,' she slapped at the desecrated body that imprisoned her. 'Do something. Get me out.'

'I'm so sorry,' El-i-miir murmured with an expression of remorse before hurriedly backing out of the room.

Seteal was removed while fresh sheets were laid out. Fes cleaned her up and put her back in place.

'Get this out of here.' Fes snatched a wriggling, scratching, clawing Seeol out of Seteal's collar by the wing and handed him to Briel. 'The last thing the girl be needin' right now be another curse.'

'No,' Seeol shrieked, clearly anguished by the separation. 'Seteal. Seteal. Seteal!'

'Come on,' Briel said without compassion as he crossed the room to toss the owl out the window before quickly slamming it shut.

Seeol, Seteal tried to call but heard nothing other than a wheeze in her throat. 'See . . .' she failed a second time, before breaking down into tears. She wanted him back. He was hers. She'd found him first. She couldn't say why she wanted him back . . . but she did. 'Seeol,' she finally choked out, but Fes pushed her back down and continued dabbing her face with a towel.

'Seteal!' Seeol cried repeatedly, his voice dulled by the glass.

'It's only an elf owl,' Seteal whispered defeatedly as she tumbled into sweet and merciful unconsciousness.

*

El-i-miir entered Seteal's room and closed the door for no other reason than to repeatedly pace its length. The others had left long ago, thinking it best not to crowd the room, but if there was anything El-i-miir could do to ease Seteal's pain, she had to try. She shuddered now to think how cruel she'd been to her just days earlier when she'd tried to force Seteal's reinvolvement in the war. Such an act was almost indistinguishable from what Far-a-mael had done a year earlier. This wasn't Seteal's war. It never had been.

'Focus,' El-i-miir snapped at herself, turning her attention back to Seteal's aura, only to shudder at what she saw there. The colours moved lazily. Most of them where dark and ugly hues ever-threatening to turn black. Sludgy reds slithered across cold purples and sickening olive greens. Beneath it all was a dirty brown that churned and frothed within the others. Seteal's aura was very sick indeed.

Raising her hands before her, El-i-miir gritted her teeth and took a deep breath. At first, the air above her fingertips seemed only to be bending slightly, before tendrils of soft light made their presence known. The light danced through the air as El-i-miir encouraged tendrils of her own aura to make their way into Seteal's. The initial contact was such that at first El-i-miir pulled away with a woozy stomach. But after taking a steadying breath, she again burrowed into the dark.

Sharp bands of red were coiled around and around Seteal's aura, ever-tightening their hold. El-i-miir reached for the red light but snapped away when she felt a sharp barb stinging all the way through and biting into her finger at the other end. Far-a-mael's anchor was so complex that she doubted she'd be able to sever it without sacrificing a decent portion of her own soul.

Moving her hands through the air as though she were parting heavy curtains, El-i-miir watched as her light split Seteal's aura open allowing her to gaze upon the deeper layers. She was looking for the smaller aura that should've been there . . . but it wasn't. Within Seteal El-i-miir found only the kind of darkness that she often felt around Seeol. Perhaps this was how Seeol had come to be, El-i-miir mused. Perhaps a whisp had penetrated his mother's soul so that she too would pass on the evil. Somehow being affected so young gave the whisp a better footing, causing it to merge entirely with the unborn.

Digging deeper, El-i-miir soon found herself overwhelmed by an impending sense of doom. A face flashed repeatedly through her mind: Seteal's rapist. She moved deeper, finding herself in an almost unbearable vacuum of sorrow. How did Seteal go on living this way? Reaching further still, El-i-miir struck a solid black wall. She tried to pull back, but something had taken hold of her light and refused to let go. Panting fearfully she pulled, but failed again to snap away from the aura. There was a burning sensation in her finger that slowly spread through to her hand and along her arm.

With a desperate gasp, El-i-miir severed the connection and the pain began to subside. There was something warm on her face. Touching it tentatively, El-i-miir discovered blood trickling down her chin. She looked at Seteal in true fear for the first time and raced out of the room. There was nothing she could do for her friend but pray like everyone else.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

THE SUFFERERS

'Stop your fussing,' Teah urged from the doorway. 'You mustn't be late for your own coronation.'

'The whole thing seems a bit silly to me,' Ilgrin muttered as he fiddled with the elaborate collar folded over his nape. He spun around abruptly and almost tripped over his trailing scarlet cape. 'They already know I have his blood. I've held the crown before plenty of witnesses.'

'It doesn't matter.' Teah chuckled, taking Ilgrin's hand and dragging him from the room. 'You wouldn't rob the people of their rituals, now would you? They just want to meet their new Devil.'

'Oh, I know, I know,' Ilgrin grumbled, following Teah through the tree and out onto a balcony grown from the side. A din of satisfied cries filled the air as Ilgrin raised his hands and bowed to the countless thousands that'd gathered in the trees below. Others flew in loops above him, cheering and dancing through the air.

'You must kneel.' Teah put a hand on Ilgrin's shoulder and pushed him to his knees. Trumpets blew fitfully as an elderly silt made his way onto the balcony dressed almost as elaborately as Ilgrin. Behind him trailed two younger men, a tray stretched out between them with the horned crown balanced on top. The old man placed a copy of the Holy Tome on a small bench at Ilgrin's right hand, before turning to stare at him. 'Put your hand on it,' Teah whispered.

'Oh.' Ilgrin jolted and laid his hand flat against the ancient book.

'Long ago we'd given up hope that the old ways would come back to us.' The old man spoke with an unexpectedly strong voice. 'We were wrong. Here before us we have the true descendent of Sa'Tan who was ordained as the first Devil by Maker himself. As it has always been: why should we pull apart that which Maker has made sacred? I bless you once.' The old silt turned a flask sideways over Ilgrin's head so that a sweet-smelling oil dripped into his hair. 'I bless you twice.' He repeated the action. 'I bless you thrice.' He repeated the action a final time. 'The crown,' he said softly and the two men made their way passed him to stand before Ilgrin. 'Arise Sa'Enoch, the one and only Devil of Hel and all of Hades, and receive your crown.'

Standing slowly, Ilgrin reached out tentatively and placed his hands on either side of the crown. The crowd of observers cheered ferociously at the confirmation they'd been holding their breath for, but none more so than when Ilgrin lifted the heavy ornament and placed it atop his head. 'Is that it?' he whispered over his shoulder.

'Not quite,' Teah replied from her place in the corner.

'You must address your people,' the old man said, flabbergasted by Ilgrin's ignorance.

'Address them?' Ilgrin gaped in surprise. 'What should I say?'

'Swear to protect them to the best of your ability or something,' Teah hissed worriedly.

'My people . . .' Ilgrin trailed off distractedly, a droplet of oil having fallen from his hair to splash on his arm. 'Angels and demons alike . . .' Again he trailed off, finding the spot where the oil had landed to be unbearably itchy. He scratched at the spot, only to realise that it didn't feel oily at all. His head snapped back and he stared up into the sky in time to see a flash of purple lightning snake its way through the clouds. 'A storm is coming.'

He turned to Teah, a second droplet of whisp rain hitting his cheek and draining his face of warmth.

'Oh torrid.' Teah bit her lip. 'It couldn't be worse timing.'

'Well, how do you normally deal with it?' Ilgrin said in frustration, his eyes remaining locked on the threatening clouds above.

'We need angels.' Jakob burst onto the balcony, causing a myriad of silts to call out in consternation.

'A Sa'Tanist this far up the tree?' The old silt's jaw worked up and down. 'This is most unorthodox.'

'He's right,' Teah nodded at Jakob. 'It's the only way to prevent the storm from destroying the entire legion.'

'We've got you, Teah,' Ilgrin clapped his hands together.

'She won't be enough.' Jakob swallowed nervously. 'A globe requires the presence of a hundred angels at least, placed strategically throughout the legion.'

'She's all we've got,' Ilgrin replied through gritted teeth as the sky rumbled and purple lightning began weaving about in the distant trees. 'She'll have to do.'

'Not necessarily,' Teah replied. 'Angels are very good at hiding. We've had to be in order to survive.' She cast a dirty look at the robed old silt. 'They've never quite been able to crush us.'

'So there are others?'

'They call themselves the occult,' Jakob interceded. 'An underground network of angels that look out for each other.' He hesitated. 'I've long suspected that Teah might know how to reach them.'

'How very insightful, Jakob,' Teah said as she moved along the balcony.

'Then it's true?' Ilgrin said, the relief evident in his voice.

'The occult exists.' Teah frowned. 'But we are very few and the others are not likely to help you. They're scared for their lives.'

'Please, Teah.' Ilgrin took the woman's hands. 'I've felt what whisp rain can do and Far-a-mael has stolen all of Hel's angels.'

'I've felt what demons can do,' Teah murmured. 'I like you, Enoch. I really do, but . . . do I trust you? I don't know if I can do that.'

'I'll do anything,' Ilgrin pleaded as a third droplet touched his flesh and oozed down his arm, sending a cold shiver through his body. 'Please.' His mood darkened and he felt unwarrantedly aggressive.

'The creation of a sieift requires sacrifice,' Teah said slowly. 'Are you willing to pay the price, my Devil?'

'Yes.' Ilgrin exhaled slowly when he realised what Teah was asking.

'Then follow me,' Teah turned and leapt from the balcony with Ilgrin at her heels. He pursued her determinedly to the top of the tree followed by gasps of disbelief from the crowd and shouts of reprimand from the coronation conductor.

'They're watching us now,' Teah said, landing on a wide branch. 'When they see your willingness to sacrifice, they will help us.'

'Then do it now!' Ilgrin cried as drips became drizzle and thunder growled like a fighting dog restrained.

'I suggest you take a deep breath.' Teah raised her arms and Ilgrin took a step back.

Clenching his teeth, Ilgrin waited for a painful explosion. But angelic power was crueller than that and manifested incrementally. His skin tingled slightly before it began to burn. Ilgrin felt somewhat nauseous and his heartbeat increased. His joints felt like they were being pulled apart and his muscles began to twitch and spasm. By the time the pain had become true agony, Ilgrin was barely conscious enough to hear himself scream.

Despite wanting to vanish into a tiny hole and die, Ilgrin forced open his eyes to find himself squirming in a mass of mist. The white cloud spewed away from him and drifted into the sky where Teah focused on it so that it flattened and spread out forming a barrier between the tree and the clouds. Throughout the legion's woods more puffs of white mist moved into the sky, where they too flattened out to form a single continuous barrier that spread out over all of Hel.

When the pain went away, it left Ilgrin feeling numb and empty. 'Why'd you stop?' Ilgrin asked without the slightest complaint in his voice.

'The angels got the message,' Teah replied. 'And we need our Devil to be strong.' She looked at the sky. 'Hopefully the storm is short and we won't need to worry about patching that up when it starts to leak.

Through blurred vision, Ilgrin leaned back and stared into the sky where the giant sieift flexed and rippled against the black downpour. Purple lightning struck at the sieift but failed to penetrate much deeper than a stride before being snuffed out of existence.

'Who were the others?' Ilgrin asked, the sieift globe's enormity taking him by surprise.

'The sufferers,' Teah replied. 'Willing demons.'

'Who would be willing to go through that?' Ilgrin gaped in astonishment.

'Not all silts are as fortunate as you, Enoch,' Teah said sadly. 'People will do horrible things to feed their young.'

'You pay them?' Ilgrin gasped. 'You pay the poor to let you torture them?'

'It was not we who first recruited the sufferers,' Teah spoke scarcely above a whisper. 'The Holy Tome speaks of sufferers being utilised as early as the second Devil's reign. It was Sa'Tan's son who created the concept. It was the only way. Maker instructed us in the beginning not to allow demon movement north of Hades. But we were also put here as their guardians. Employing sufferers is the only way we could do both.'

Ilgrin got to his feet unsteadily. 'That's disgusting.'

'It could've been worse,' Teah said with a nonchalant shrug. 'History tells us that some Devils encouraged the kidnapping of humans for the purpose of sieift creation. At least this way the legion is protected and the sufferer's family are well fed for a year.'

'That's disgusting,' Ilgrin repeated his sentiments from earlier.

'Well, what alternative is there?'

'I don't know,' Ilgrin threw out his arms. 'Maybe stop making whisps so that we can finally see the sun!'

'Go ahead. You try telling a demon mother that she can't resurrect her dead child,' Teah scoffed.

'Then resurrection should be supervised by angels,' Ilgrin said desperately. 'If someone wishes to perform a resurrection they must first suffer the sieift in preparation to cancel out the whisp as it forms.'

'That sounds good in theory.' Teah shrugged. 'But once more: those before you have tried time and again to enforce such laws and it has proven fruitless. There are far too many demons and far too few angels. By the time we could get around to everyone the bodies would've long since become too dead.'

'So we're damned to live this way forever?' Ilgrin threw up his hands in defeat. 'Must we fear the clouds above until they've one day become too strong for us to defend ourselves?'

'There is much I have to tell you,' Teah replied. 'But first you must address your people.'

Ilgrin flew back down to the balcony where nervous faces waited, many peering up at the newly formed dome above them. 'People of Hades,' Ilgrin started with an elevated voice. 'I hereby swear to fight for the good of all silts. It is time to bring equality to both Hades and New World. We will make the humans accept us!'

Ilgrin was aware only after he'd finished speaking that the speech probably sounded very odd to the silts below. They probably didn't much care about feeling equal to humans. He frowned.

'I will bring glory to the lineage of Sa'Tan!' He finished. The crowd roared. That was what they'd wanted to hear. He turned away awkwardly and headed inside to find Teah waiting there.

'Come with me.' The angel took Ilgrin's hand and guided him farther into the tree. From there they weaved through numerous passageways until Ilgrin found himself standing in what could only be described as a library. The walls were lined with shelves grown out from the tree surface to be filled with countless books. Teah removed one of the larger ones and flicked through the pages.

'What's that?'

'The Holy Tome,' Teah murmured as she sought out a specific entry, sliding her finger down the page as she went.

'Sorry.' Ilgrin raised his hands in protest. 'I'm not religious. Abnatians don't believe in Maker.'

'The Tome speaks of redemption.' Teah ignored Ilgrin's objection. 'Here.' She pointed at the tiny black writing. 'This is one of the most prominent signs that we are living in the last days. It says that the darkness will begin to spread north.'

'I'm sorry.' Ilgrin backed away. 'I really don't believe in--'

'Just try to keep an open mind,' Teah snapped in exasperation. 'It is said that Maker's Holy Spirit will come down upon the earth and that She will descend in the clouds and every eye shall see. A key will be given unto Her and with it She will reopen the gates of Hae'Evun.'

'Wait.' Ilgrin shook his head in confusion. 'The Holy Spirit is a woman?'

'Many humans believe the use of "She" to be symbolic.' Teah frowned. 'I've never really understood the problem myself. People always seem so determined to believe men must be assigned all of the important jobs.'

'I suppose.' Ilgrin nodded. 'So who is she?'

'No one knows,' Teah replied. 'Not even the Spirit Herself. The Tome says that nobody but Maker knows the day nor the hour. We just have to watch for the signs.'

'You said this spirit will have a key,' Ilgrin stated. 'What makes you think that demons will want to return to Hae'Evun? We must've left for a reason.'

'I think that you might be surprised by how many of us are tired of living this way--foreigners imprisoned in somebody else's world.' Teah sighed. 'But, like you, too few believe in the Holy Scriptures anymore. Perhaps even I had lost my faith until . . .' She trailed off and leant forward, allowing her long hair to tumble over her shoulders.

'Until what?'

'Well . . . the sky is moving,' Teah said almost apologetically.

'Look, it'd be really nice if your story book was true,' Ilgrin stated apathetically, 'but I'm the Devil now and I can't just wait around hoping on your mythical Holy Spirit. I have to do what's best for my people right now.'

'So what are you going to do?'

'We've destroyed our world and there's nothing to be done about that,' Ilgrin said regretfully. 'So . . . we'll just have to take theirs.'

'You would invade New World?' Teah raised her eyebrows.

'I don't want to hurt them,' Ilgrin said softly, his thoughts straying to El-i-miir. 'We must find a way to co-exist. They will learn to tolerate our presence, given enough time.'

'They will fight to the death.' Teah shook her head at Ilgrin's naïveté. 'They hate us and rightfully so.'

'You would believe that.' Ilgrin shrugged. 'But I've seen another side to them. If we can just be good to them, we'll win them over in the end.'

'In the end, perhaps,' Teah said without conviction. 'But not in the beginning. Many lives will be lost before they'll listen to you.'

'I know that,' Ilgrin said solemnly. 'The armies must be defeated and the Elglair will have to be watched carefully.'

'The Elglair will have to be destroyed completely,' Teah said fatalistically.

'Completely?' Ilgrin balked.

'You know it's true,' Teah said firmly. 'They're too dangerous and too sneaky.'

'Yes,' Ilgrin said. 'I suppose they are.'

'Ilgrin.' Teah touched his arm. 'We didn't start this, but we do have to finish it.'

'Didn't we?' Ilgrin said shakily, somewhat surprised by her having used his preferred name. 'They only hate us because of the lives our whisps have destroyed.'

'Perhaps you're right,' Teah replied. 'But this is about survival. They will continue to attack. We either defend ourselves or we lay down and die.'

'I know.' Ilgrin sighed in resignation. He turned and left the library with a heavy heart. He walked the length of a dark tunnel curving through the tree with downcast eyes. He flew through the internal cavern on unsteady wings and exited the tree. The sieift above was waning, but the storm had come to an end, so it'd served its purpose.

Someone screamed in flight. It was a sound that sent chills running down Ilgrin's spine. He looked into the sky and there he saw something that filled him with fear. An angel flew straight toward the tree carrying a large capsule with an ignited fuse burning close to its end. The silt thrust his legs forward and released the bomb. It hit the tree with shuddering force, spraying fire in every direction.

Matt-hew 24

23. Then if any man shall say unto you, 'Lo, here is the Spirit,' or 'there,' believe it not.

24. For there shall arise false spirits and false prophets and shall show great signs and wonders, insomuch that, if it were possible, they shall deceive the very elect.

25. Behold, I have told you before.

26. Therefore, if they shall say unto you, 'Behold, She is in the desert!' go not forth, or 'Behold, She is in the secret chambers!' believe it not.

27. For as the lightning cometh out of the east and shineth even unto the west, so shall also the coming of the Holy Spirit be.

28. For wheresoever the carcass is, there will the eagles be gathered together.

29-30. Immediately after the tribulation of those days shall the sun be darkened and the moon shall not give her light, and the demons shall fall from the sky and the powers of Hae'Evun shall be shaken, and then shall appear the body of the Spirit in the sky. And then shall all the tribes of the earth mourn bathed in blood, and they shall see the Holy Spirit coming in the clouds with power and with great glory.

Scriptures of the Holy Tome

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

BLACK POWDER BOMBS

Jakob hurried down the seemingly endless stairwell that served as the only Sa'Tanist route through the great tree. There were many duties he had to take care of in his service to the new Devil. Sa'Enoch was a good man and had remembered him as he'd hoped. He was allowed free access to the tree and was set up to receive an admirable income. Jakob smiled at the thought. He'd done well for himself.

His foot fell toward the next step, but it was gone. A deafening explosion filled his ears, the blast thrusting him back against the wall of the stairwell. He gaped in horror as the side of the tree disappeared and he stared out over the trees of the legion below. He was blasted by hot, fiery air as the tree shuddered and moaned. He watched in disbelief as the great army of New World slowly carved its way through the outer portions of Hel.

Countless angels swooped this way and that, carrying capsules containing what he could only assume was black powder. The affiliated angels dropped the capsules wherever they thought they could cause the most destruction. A second black powder bomb struck the tree higher up. Jakob braced himself as the structure shuddered and he watched in shock as one gigantic branch sailed passed him on its way toward the ground. Demons fell after it, having been knocked out or killed in the explosion.

Without wasting another second, Jakob scrambled back up the stairwell until he found an entrance point into the tree. He raced through a tunnel in which half the lanterns had been blown out. One of them hit the ground and its oil spilt across its length to burn furiously. Jakob took a minute to stomp out the flames before pulling open a door on the ground and peering down into darkness. He could make out the floor below and didn't think the drop was very far. Sliding through the doorway, he allowed his legs to dangle as far as possible before releasing his hold. The fall was brief but he hit the ground hard and moaned at a sharp pain in his leg.

The tree shuddered again, but this time it was accompanied by a long and low tearing sound. Jakob gaped as cracks splintered their way along the walls and the ceiling started to warp. He ignored the pain in his leg and ran for his life shouting at every silt he passed to do the same. When he reached the central cavity, Jakob was forced to an abrupt halt.

'Hey,' he called, having spotted a silt descending from above. 'Help me down.' She merely looked at him disparagingly and continued on her way. 'Torrid,' Jakob gritted his teeth, knowing the tree well enough to be certain that without the Sa'Tanist stairwell he'd never make it down without assistance.

'Jakob,' Teah called as she raced out of a library he'd passed a moment earlier. 'What's going on?'

'The tree is under attack,' Jakob replied, unable to believe the words as he spoke them.

'Maker,' Teah said disbelievingly. 'Come on,' she called, racing toward the inner tree. Another large explosion made the tree moan deafeningly. The walls splintered and the ceiling tilted away from them. Teah threw her arms around Jakob and leapt over the edge, flaring her wings as she went.

Twisting around in the angel's arms, Jakob caught a glimpse of the upper half of the tree as it tilted, having been blasted right through. The tree was filled with gusty wind. The whisp-filled sky was revealed above. Jakob's heart thundered in his chest as Teah expertly wove through the criss-crossing branches as they plummeted.

'They will pay,' he heard her whisper through clenched teeth. 'We will make them pay.'

*

Ilgrin watched a second and then a third bomb strike the exterior of the tree and explode. Silts rained down from the sky, along with branches thousands of strides in length that crushed countless others when they landed. Perhaps it was shock or disbelief that held him in place. Ilgrin stared, transfixed, until he realised the tree had been struck one too many times. There was a deafening rumbling sound as it buckled halfway up its length.

The upper half of the tree folded forward and started to fall, knocking silts out of the crowded sky as it went. Ilgrin leapt into the air and flew for dear life as the distance between them became increasingly less. The giant mass of timber flew past and the resulting gust of wind sent him spiralling. Once he'd regained it, Ilgrin watched the half-tree crush a massive length of the legion. Near the top half of the tree, a flood of humans poured through the woods, swords flashing, arrows shooting, and the occasional pistol going off with a bang.

'Attack!' Ilgrin cried furiously. 'Kill them all!' He didn't care who heard him. It didn't matter whether they were military or not. These filthy creatures had destroyed the great tree and he would make them suffer. 'Attack!' he cried out again, launching himself toward the enemy and lunging for his scythe. Before long, others surrounded him, flying in allegiance. Every eye was filled with righteous fury and every hand gripped a weapon.

Ilgrin shut his wings and dove. He snapped his toes around the head of a soldier and tore him into the air. The man screamed in terror as his sword fell. He clung to Ilgrin's leg begging and screaming for his life. Ilgrin looked down at him, a tiny voice begging and pleading in the back of his mind that he not do what he was about to do. Ilgrin ignored the voice and with a shake of his leg he watched the soldier fall to his messy death. In a frenzied rage, Ilgrin swooped again in search of his next victim.

The battlefield had been determined with countless thousands of silts swooping about the trees tearing up and destroying the human army. They were bees who'd just had their hive sliced in half. Ilgrin's heart filled with a strange kind of pride as he watched his demons dominating and destroying the piteously weak humans. It was almost cruel how far superior his kind were. Tracing his eyes through the crowds, Ilgrin sort desperately for one specific face, but he couldn't find it. Where was Far-a-mael? No matter how he searched, he couldn't find the old man.

Ilgrin threw his feet out as he beat his powerful wings and snapped his toes around human shoulders. He pitched his feet forward and watched as the weakling creature flew howling into the distance. He hit the ground and rolled several times. Ilgrin pounced on him and breathed into his face.

'You're pathetic,' he hissed, pinning the human beneath one foot.

'Do what you must,' the man growled before turning his head sideways to spit in the dirt. Ilgrin gasped and pulled back at the sight of white pupils glittering in the dark. He swallowed hard, his heart filling with pain at what El-i-miir would've thought of what he'd become.

'Run.' Ilgrin pulled away and launched himself into the air. But something snapped around his soul and his flesh began to burn. He tumbled toward the ground. He twisted about in the air to see an angel beckoning him through dead eyes. His Elglair puppet master stood several strides away directing his every move. Ilgrin's eyes twitched toward a hint of movement over the old man's shoulder. But the affiliate noticed Ilgrin's eyes and was immediately alerted to the fact that Jakob was sneaking up behind him.

The gil spun around and thrust a hand out at Jakob, who hit the ground sobbing. Ilgrin hit the earth, freed of the angel's crippling power, a slight sieift dusting itself from his body. He snatched at his hip pistol, threw up a hand, and pulled the trigger. A bright patch of red bloomed on the gil's shirt. He turned in a slow circle, his eyes devastated. He stared at Ilgrin for just a moment and then collapsed, never to get back up.

The angel fell to his knees, his eyes coming alive. He lifted his hands and gazed at them as though he couldn't believe it were possible.

'You're free,' Ilgrin said. 'And I promise no harm will ever again come to you on account of demons.'

'I'm . . . free!' the angel cried delightedly, immediately leaping into the air and disappearing from sight.

'Thank you,' Ilgrin said to Jakob as he got to his feet.

'It's always a delight to help kill the Elglair.' He half-smiled before rushing off through the trees.

When Ilgrin was back in the air, he realised just how many demons had suffered at the hands of affiliated angels. He needed to find their gils and kill them. It was the only way. Immediately, he spotted an older woman several hundred strides away. She had the blank face of a gil concentrating, and although she didn't lift a single hand, not a sword was able to touch her. Ilgrin kept his distance and attempted to aim his pistol, which proved to be difficult while in flight. The second he'd raised his arm the woman's head snapped in his direction, she having already felt his intentions through the Ways. The old woman thrust a hand out at Ilgrin and he immediately decided to fly face-first at the ground below without slowing down in order to kill himself.

Snapping shut his wings, Ilgrin flipped around and plummeted. The ground flew up at him quickly, but he knew he'd made the right decision. He fell faster and faster but before he could hit the ground, long toes snapped around his arms and guided him gently to a softer landing.

Teah looked at him in astonishment while multitasking and thrusting her sword through the heart of a human. 'What the torrid were you thinking?'

'I wasn't.' Ilgrin shook his head. 'An affiliate was thinking for me.'

'Gils are rather tricky to kill head-on.' Teah nodded. 'Come on. I'll show you a better way.'

With that, Teah raced through the woods on foot. Ilgrin followed as quickly as he dared, weaving between trees, often the homes of presently dead silts that'd been very recently adopted as human hideouts.

'What're you planning?' Ilgrin called, but Teah refused even to acknowledge him as she raced on.

'There.' She stopped behind a rather thick tree. 'Is that your gil?'

'That's her.' Ilgrin peered through the trees to see the old woman focusing on her angel as it attacked a free angel above.

'Watch this.' Teah shoved Ilgrin so hard that he stumbled into the small clearing.

The gil's attention snapped toward him. 'You're persistent. I'll give you that.' She pursed her lips irritably and pointed at his chest.

Ilgrin vanished from existence, only to reappear moments later. He was in his home outside of Sitnic. 'Mother?' He called. 'Fath--' But the word stuck in his throat.

The smell of blood filled Ilgrin's nostrils. Baen and Urelie had been tied up. Their faces were beaten and bruised and their throats were cut. A deep sob escaped Ilgrin's throat and he fell to his knees in the middle of the woods outside of Hel. It was all his fault. He was the reason they'd been found and killed.

'No, no, no!' he cried.

Ilgrin's aura was released as an agonised howl snatched him back to reality. The old woman squirmed on the ground, Teah looming over her as white mist leached away from her flesh. The gil pleaded for mercy, slamming the back of her head against the ground. She made mad gesticulations, undoubtedly snatching for the Ways, but found herself to be in too much pain to do anything useful with them. Ilgrin looked away, unable to stomach the slowness of her death.

'Please!' the woman screamed at his back. 'Please!' Finally her cries stopped and Teah put a hand on Ilgrin's shoulder.

'I'm sorry. That was ugly,' Teah whispered, 'but it had to be done.'

'I know.' Ilgrin looked at the old woman with the thought in mind that she was probably about two hundred years old. She probably had great-great-great-grandchildren. It seemed like such an awful way to complete such a long life. But she'd made her choice. They all had.

'Hey,' a stranger called from the branches above. Ilgrin glanced up to see a silt smiling down at them. 'Thanks.' He smiled, his halo glimmering momentarily.

'Thank us by helping us,' Ilgrin replied tiredly. 'Free as many others as you can. Teah, you do the same.'

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

HEL FIRE

Ilgrin sailed through the air, scoping out the mayhem of the battle below. Both human and silt alike had been enlisted into slow games of cat and mouse. Such was to be expected when fighting within the constraints of a heavily wooded forest. Several of the affiliated angels had been killed. Others still worked patiently with their black powder bombs. Half the legion burned with deadly fire, starting at the base of the tree and continued to the west. As a result, the armies of mankind favoured an easterly direction for their assault. Having spotted Jakob trapped behind a wall of flames, Ilgrin banked toward the ground only to lose sight of the man behind a veil of smoke.

'Jakob?' Ilgrin called. 'Jakob, where are you?' He stumbled around a burning tree, pulling his shirt up over his nose.

A New World soldier screamed as he leapt through the smoke with his sword raised. Ilgrin sidestepped the man, spun him around and slammed his face into the burning tree. He stumbled back, howling and slapping at his face.

'Jakob?' Ilgrin called again, but his toe touched something soft and warm, which served to steal his attention. 'Jakob!' He gasped, finding his friend collapsed on the ground. He threw his arms around the man and lifted him easily. He beat his wings and leapt into the air. 'Wake up.' He shook the human. 'Come on!'

'Maker,' Jakob groaned, taking a shuddering breath. 'What'd you do that for?'

'I need your help,' Ilgrin said determinedly.

'What for?'

'We must have our own black powder bombs, right? And oil . . . anything to make fire burn faster.'

'I don't know.' Jakob shrugged. 'Noah might.'

'Let's go.' Ilgrin flew for what was left of the great tree. Countless whisps drifting up from the battlefield caused him to pause cringing. To add insult to injury, his soldiers were playing dirty.

After allowing Jakob to drop the final stride to his feet, Ilgrin landed ahead of him and raced down into the roots. He cast a worried glance into the flames devouring the upper parts of what was left of the tree. He couldn't help but feel concerned about how long it would take before they reached the bottom.

'We've got to get to the dungeon.' Ilgrin put a hand on Jakob's shoulder. 'Take me by the quickest route you know.'

'Sure,' Jakob replied. 'But I really wish you'd tell me what you're planning.'

'There's no time.' Ilgrin hurried through the massive doorway and into the main entrance.

'Um, Ilgrin,' Jakob called, forcing him to come to an abrupt stop. 'It's this way.' He nodded toward a doorway across the room.

'Right.' Ilgrin hurried through the door and down a long curling staircase, before entering a crudely made tunnel with the occasional root prodding through the glistening dirt wall. 'Quickly,' Ilgrin urged, having noticed a rise in temperature.

'Look,' Jakob said, pointing at a large iron door.

'Give me the keys,' Ilgrin ordered the guard, tearing off the cumbersome Devil's crown from his head and looping it around his belt.

'My lord.' The silt bowed deeply before handing them over.

'Thank you.' Ilgrin tried one of the keys in the lock only to find that it didn't turn. He moved onto another one. 'Now get yourself out of here. Quickly,' he snapped at the guard. 'The tree is burning down. Warn anyone else working underground who might be unaware.'

'Immediately, Devil Sa'Enoch,' the guard replied as he hurried along the length of the tunnel.

'Got it.' Ilgrin felt the third key move into place, turned it and was satisfied to hear the lock slide. He burst into the dungeon with Jakob at his heels and rushed over to the cage that housed the silt he was looking for. 'Noah!'

'The Devil honours me too much with such frequent visits,' Noah uttered sarcastically as he approached the bars. 'To what do I owe this pleasure?'

'There must be a store room.' Ilgrin gripped the bars. 'I need black powder and anything else that'll burn.'

'And you think that I'm going to tell you where to find it?' Noah laughed. 'Why in Maker's name would I do that?'

'Because I'm your Devil,' Ilgrin snarled, thrusting a hand through the bars to lock his fingers around Noah's arm. He pulled him up against the cage and forced his hand around Ilgrin's crown.

'Stop!' Noah cried, his hand blistering. 'Please!'

'Tell me!' Ilgrin shouted, removing Noah's hand from the crown, but maintaining his grip on the demon's arm.

'I'll have to show you,' Noah sobbed. 'It's too far away.'

'All right,' Ilgrin grumbled. 'But if you so much as breathe the wrong way, you'll suffer twice what you just did.' He jangled the keys about until he found the right one and used it to open Noah's door.

'This way.' Noah hurried toward the exit.

'Noah,' Ilgrin said softly, before moving to follow the silt. Noah turned around, his expression one of suspicion. 'You should probably be warned that I have one of these now.' Ilgrin moved his cape to reveal a pistol at his hip.

'I understand,' Noah uttered nervously.

'Come on,' Ilgrin said to Jakob, before the two hurried out of the dungeon after Noah.

Noah was fast and occasionally Ilgrin had to ask him to slow down for fear of losing him, but eventually they came to a room containing that which Ilgrin had been hoping for.

'This is it?' Ilgrin hurried into the room to examine the capsules and crates of weapons stacked up against the walls.

'This is precisely what you need,' Noah's voice sounded strange over Ilgrin's shoulder.

'Watch out,' Jakob yelped. Ilgrin spun around as quickly as possible, but in a room filled with weaponry Noah had known just where to find himself a pistol. The silt's aim was perfect but Jakob leapt into the path of the bullet and received it in Ilgrin's place.

The human hit the ground with a heavy thud as Ilgrin charged across the room and slammed Noah against the wall. His pistol tumbled from his hand and clattered across the bricks at the same time as the first dense cloud of smoke wafted into the room. At first Ilgrin suspected a whisp, but quickly recognised the dirtier colour for what it was.

'Smoke?' Noah's eyes revealed his confusion.

'Give me one good reason why I shouldn't just leave you here to burn in Hel,' Ilgrin spat, shoving his arm up against Noah's throat and waving his pistol in the man's face.

'Please,' Noah begged weakly. 'I was only doing what I had to.'

'You're pathetic.' Ilgrin backed up toward the capsules of black powder and threw them onto a trolley, all the while keeping his weapon levelled at Noah's face. Next he removed the large crates, before finally dragging Jakob out by his collar. He slammed the door and locked it to Noah's pleas for his life.

'Jakob,' Ilgrin called out to the man, but he was dead. 'Oh, for Maker's sake.' Ilgrin bit his lip in frustration. 'I still need you.' He put his hand against the man's chest and felt it tingle.

The bullet squeezed its way out of Jakob and bounced across the floor as the wound in his chest healed over.

'Ilgrin,' Jakob gasped when his eyes burst open and his chest began to rise. 'I thought you didn't believe in--' The man cut himself off by belching loudly. The black mist shot out of his mouth and oozed away from his flesh.

Ilgrin watched in captivated silence as the whisp drifted through the door he'd closed just moments earlier. 'No!' Noah cried. 'Get it away from me. Help! Help me!' Thereafter his words became unintelligible and the man simply screamed unceasingly.

'Carry everything you can manage,' Ilgrin ordered Jakob, only to observe the man struggling to lift a single crate. 'Really?' Ilgrin uttered disbelievingly. 'Just push the trolley,' he said, only to freeze at a loud banging behind him. Ilgrin followed the sound, his eyes coming to rest on the door and it occurred to him that Noah was no longer screaming.

The door shuddered violently a second time as something incredibly heavy slammed against it. With the next hit, the lock broke and the door flew open. There was a heavy thud that sounded like the footfall of a large animal. The creature Noah had become hunched low in order to squeeze through the doorframe. Oddly enough, the thing still bore Noah's resemblance, but everything had gotten a lot larger and a lot more muscular. The mutant silt took a step into the light, boasting leathery grey skin and two large horns that'd sprouted from his head. His mouth curled up into a cruel smile, his eyes locked on Ilgrin and his laugher was revealed to be a menacing rumble.

'Run!' Ilgrin shouted, only to turn around and find that Jakob was already halfway down corridor.

The crates fell from Ilgrin's arms as he raced along the passage, but he maintained his grip on one and hoped dearly that it contained what he needed. Noah thundered along after them, slowed down only by his sheer bulk and the immensity of his wings getting in the way as they dragged along the walls. Jakob disappeared around the corner up ahead, but almost immediately raced back toward Ilgrin, his face filled with fear. An explosion brought a ball of fire and flying bricks around the corner after him. Ilgrin leapt into the air, gripped Jakob's shoulders in his toes and shot through a passageway above his head.

The level above was going down in flames. They hurried passed raging fires and around falling lumps of charred wood. 'It's this way.' Jakob pointed. 'We'll have to go through the inner space.'

'No problem,' Ilgrin said sarcastically at the end of the tunnel and looked out into the cavity where not a single surface seemed to be free of flames. 'Hold on,' Ilgrin grabbed Jakob and pulled him into the air where they were struck by an almost unbearable wall of heat.

'See there,' Jakob gasped. 'That's the main entrance.'

Following the human's extended finger, Ilgrin found the large double doors and was pleased to see the open woods beyond. Behind them the wall of the cavern erupted in a spray of flames and debris as Noah thrust himself into the open space. Ilgrin doubled his efforts in reaching the exit, but the distance between himself and Noah was decreasing rapidly. Snapping his wings shut, Ilgrin shot through the doorway and into the woods. He threw open his wings and fought for the sky.

Noah blasted through the doorway taking half of it with him and tumbled along the ground covered in flames. The monster roared in frustration as he rolled about in the dirt. Once the flames were extinguished he turned to glare angrily after Ilgrin, but instead of pursuing, he fled into the night. Ilgrin took the opportunity to land and tear open the crate he'd been carrying in his toes. Inside, all he found was a large pile of daggers.

'Damn it.' Ilgrin hung his head.

'If I may ask,' Jakob tilted his head. 'What was your plan?'

'I wanted something to spread the fire east around the New World army,' Ilgrin replied. 'My people could fly to safety and their army would be trapped.'

'I don't think the fire needed any help.' Jakob turned slowly to take in the devastation. 'Hel has been destroyed . . . and the battle is over.'

'You're right.' Ilgrin sighed as he watched silt homes crumbling through a haze of thick smoke. Here and there, small skirmishes broke out when soldiers leapt from their hiding places wielding swords, but there were so few humans remaining that their attacks were short-lived.

'What now?' Jakob shook his head at the senseless destruction surrounding them. 'Hel is ruined.'

'They've destroyed everything we have,' Ilgrin said bitterly. 'Now . . . I'm going to return the favour.' He turned to face Jakob with a hateful sneer. 'Spread the order. Resurrect everyone.'

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

MOTHER

Kintor was a small city in the southernmost parts of Kilk. It had no true walls--not the type that would prevail in battle, anyway. To compensate for this lack of protection, the city lords had agreed to construct watchtowers where soldiers could be posted armed with bows, arrows--and, more recently, pistols. On that particular day, the watchmen knew that their arrows would do very little to protect them, so they simply clung to their bows and quivered in fear of the strange anomaly taking place before their eyes.

Kintor had always been a rather bright city, despite being so close to the borderlands. Occasionally a whisp might've drifted up from Old World, but for the most part, their little city was free of grief or suffering. It'd been that way since the dawn of time--until about a month or two earlier, when mysterious visitors had been seen entering from the south. It had been a slow transformation, but a transformation nonetheless. The previously joyous Kintor that its citizens had known and loved had since become a darker place. And it wasn't just the steadily approaching whisp cloud in the south that brought with it a sense of foreboding. No, there was something happening to the city itself.

The watchmen were especially aware of the darkness within the city. Why wouldn't they be? From such a vantage point, they were able to see everything within and without. It was for this reason that they squatted low and shook in fear as they eyed the woodlands in which their humble city was nestled. The trees had become strangely animated. Each of them struggled against their roots in an effort to lean away from the city, whether it be to the north, south, east, or west, dependant on their position. The birds had disappeared earlier that very day and chained dogs howled unapologetically. The wind was furious, leaving not a loose item to rest unmolested.

Of course, the watchmen were only human and could not have known about the woman screaming in pain on a bed in a house toward the centre of the city.

Seteal Eltari had suffered a great deal of pain in her life--both physical and emotional--but this pain was unlike anything that'd preceded it. She couldn't remember much of her time at Mistress Daorey's house. Most of it had passed by as some sort surreal haze. Seteal had spent the time in misery. For the remainder, she'd been in pain. But this pain was something that couldn't be ignored, surreal haze or none. It was as though the child were fighting against her, refusing to leave. Blood spilt continuously from between Seteal's legs and out of her nose and her mouth and her eyes and her ears. She coughed and sneezed a spray of blood. There'd been blood in her urine and in her vomit.

'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.

Seteal handed over three coins to purchase some bread and cheese at a corner stall. She continued down the street and stumbled across a fruit stand where she bought three apples and two pears. She turned the corner and slammed face-first into a man's chest.

'No,' she choked out, her heart racing. 'Leave me alone!' she cried, pushing against the man's chest before seating herself on the ground where she leant against a building and kept her face hidden.

'Are you all right, miss?' Master Fasil offered his hand.

'Get away.' Seteal kicked out at him. 'You're a wicked man. You're an evil, wicked man. Get away from me. I hate you. I hate you!'

'Right.' The stranger backed away with wide eyes. 'You can sort yourself out, then.'

Sobbing and gagging for a lungful of air, Seteal remained in place for some time. Her heart began to slow and she was able to breathe. She gathered up her bags, got to her feet, and picked up the apples that'd rolled across the path. She dusted off her dress and leaned against the building. Seteal's hands were shaking and she found it quite impossible to prevent them from doing so. She reached out to the Ways but felt only the heavy burden of Far-a-mael's anchor, as strong as ever and fixed in place. Her only place of respite had been stolen by that treacherous old man.

Seteal took a step back toward the city and watched a small cloud of dust that was kicked up by her boot. 'You can't keep behaving this way, Seteal,' she reprimanded herself. 'They'll have you locked up.'

Refusing to give in and seek refuge at Mistress Daorey's house, Seteal spent several hours in a local park watching the ducks swimming. She fed them some of her bread and giggled at their willingness to approach. She must've seemed like a monster to them and yet they were willing to risk their lives for a commodity so modest as bread. Seteal watched the ducks scatter fearfully as she stood and couldn't help but realise that they were somewhat like her. They pushed the boundaries and then ran in terror at the slightest sign of movement. It was time to go home.

On her way back, Seteal found herself thinking about Parrowun and his adorable face. She wanted him to become a strong man--fearless. He would be a leader. He would command respect and find the love of his life. He'd have countless children and never feel a stick of pain. Seteal would make sure of that. He'd be the admiration of everyone in Elmsville.

Happy thoughts faded as she turned toward the south and saw black clouds boiling in the middle distance. The whisps of Old World were getting closer and Seteal knew why. She'd denied it out of fear, but felt it when a part of the great cloud had latched onto her soul months earlier. A portion so enormous had entered into her that the remainder of the great cloud had been made aware of her presence. It was coming for her.

'You're being paranoid.' Seteal shook herself and made her way back along Mistress Daorey's street.

Several doors away, Seteal heard Parrowun screaming. She ran. Briel was absent from the yard and the door was wide open. 'Parrowun!' Seteal shouted, dropping her bags and racing across the lawn. She stepped inside, but immediately recoiled at the scent of blood. Seteal carried on a few strides before she was alarmed by a piercing scream. She came around the corner into the living room. Ieane was staring in horror. Seteal followed her gaze and felt her heart sink.

Fes was lying in a pool of blood. Her face was covered in it and she was panting fitfully on her back. Briel gripped her hand, tears in his eyes, begging that she tell him what'd happened. Mistress Daorey had lost all colour from her face. El-i-miir watched on with a shaking hand over her mouth. The look in her eyes told Seteal that she already knew of Fes's fate. Parrowun continued crying from his place atop a blanket a stride away from her. His face was red and he screamed fitfully.

'Oh, Fes!' Seteal cried, hurrying to the woman's side.

'Seteal.' Briel turned to her with red eyes. 'It be the sickness ye had when ye were pregnant. It must be catchin'.'

'It must have been,' Seteal choked out, her eyes wandering to Parrowun. She scooped him up and held him tight. 'It's okay.' She rocked him while struggling to open her dress to nurse him. The child stopped screaming and Fes coughed one last time, a fountain of blood sprayed out of her mouth.

'I love ye,' Fes said very clearly, her eyes locked on Briel.

'I love ye, too.' Briel's whole body shook as tears flooded down his cheeks and he watched the life disappear from his wife's eyes. 'Nah, Fes,' he bawled. 'Ye nah can leave me.' But it was too late. The immense pool of blood surrounding the Merry Islander was testament to that.

'Fes,' Seteal whispered after realising that she too had been crying for some time. 'I'm so sorry,' she sobbed.

'It nah be ye fault,' Briel gripped Seteal's hand. 'It be the sickness.'

'I'm so, so sorry,' Seteal cried over Fes's body, because she knew better than Briel. She knew it was her fault. She'd birthed a monster. And he was a monster that she would protect with her life.

*

The room El-i-miir shared with Ieane was not large and it'd clearly been used as a library before their arrival. One entire wall was covered with bookshelves that were filled beyond their intended usage. El-i-miir looked over the books, her eyes foggy with tears as she tried to comprehend what'd happened just hours earlier.

Briel's deep voice rumbled on through the wall as he spoke unceasingly to his deceased wife. It was a Merry Islander tradition to speak to the dead about everything they'd have done had they continued to live. It was supposed to mean that in some small way, they wouldn't miss out. In El-i-miir's opinion, it only served to further upset the family of the deceased, but who was she to judge the traditions of another? After all, the Elglair had some rather unusual customs of their own.

After staring at the books for some time, El-i-miir realised with a jolt that her eyes had been locked on the spine of one particular book. It's simplistic title read, The Real Silt. El-i-miir made her way over on shaky legs and removed the item before returning to sit on the bed. She rested the tattered leather-bound book in her lap and read the subtitle out loud. 'A Study of the Silt in its Natural Habitat.' The book had been written and published by an anonymous author living in Kintor over a hundred years ago.

Flicking through the pages, El-i-miir was shocked to see incredibly accurate sketches of real silts. Such a book would never have been found farther north, where silts were depicted as drooling monsters with horns, hooves and pointed tails. One of the pictures showed a male silt standing proudly with a scythe in one hand, his wings folded elegantly behind him. His eyes pierced through the paper, dark and brooding. It could have almost been Ilgrin.

El-i-miir rested her hand on the page and touched the silt's face. She'd so grown to love those strange, angular features. Those oddly shaped purple eyes and his inhuman physique--elongated and slender--had become a comfort to El-i-miir. Even the wings that'd once struck fear into her heart had become a thing of beauty. She wiped a tear from her eye as she continued to try and ignore Briel's constant droning.

Fes was dead, but at least she and Briel had lived a long and happy life together. Ilgrin wouldn't allow that for El-i-miir and him. He was the Devil now and didn't care about some silly human woman he'd once known. El-i-miir threw the book across the room so that it hit the wall with a thud. When it bounced across the floor it landed open at an illustration depicting silts in battle, swooping over human soldiers on the ground. The title read, A Formidable Foe.

El-i-miir went to stand up so that she could put the book away, but as she did the room became heavy and her eyes locked on the page. She lifted the book slowly, gazing into the battle depicted on the paper. The floorboard creaked beneath her feet and she felt them coming. El-i-miir threw the book aside, raced through the house and out the front door. Silence.

The nights had become colder lately and were often accompanied by chilly westerly winds. El-i-miir's hair blew about her face. They were coming. Crickets chirped noisily in the long grass. The Ways churned excitedly, twisting and pulling toward a mass of souls that approached at speeds that far outpaced a horse. El-i-miir turned her face to the south. The wind tossed her hair about fitfully. The crickets grew louder. El-i-miir pulled her coat about herself for warmth. Someone was cooking chicken in one of the houses nearby. The streets were peaceful.

'What are you doing out there, dear?' Mistress Daorey asked from the front door. 'You'll let out all the warmth.'

El-i-miir looked at the woman for a moment. She seemed so far away, her face a tiny spot of wrinkles in the distant recess of her home. El-i-miir took a step out onto the dewy grass, her slipper wetting through. The crickets grew louder. A bell started ringing in the south. The crickets grew louder. No they didn't. The crickets were drowned out by a new buzzing din. The Ways flicked out one tendril of light, which El-i-miir snatched onto. She felt the approach of a soul she'd so missed.

'Ilgrin,' she whispered before hurrying back inside. 'Get dressed,' she ordered Mistress Daorey.

'I am dressed,' the old woman replied, following El-i-miir into her room. 'Whatever is the matter, child?'

'Silts,' El-i-miir wriggled into a more suitable dress and threw a cloak around her shoulders. 'They're coming.'

'What in the world are you on about?' Mistress Daorey laughed disbelievingly.

'Seteal!' El-i-miir rushed into her friend's room, a lantern gripped in hand. 'Get up. They're coming.'

'What time is it?' Seteal grumbled, wiping at her eyes.

'They're about to attack,' El-i-miir barked. 'Get dressed.'

'All right, all right.' Seteal rolled onto her feet and wrapped Parrowun in a blanket.

'It's Ilgrin.' El-i-miir choked on his name. Without wasting another moment she sought out Ieane and repeated her instructions. Finally, she hurried over to Briel's door and tapped on it out of respect. 'Briel,' she whispered apologetically.

'I'm busy,' Briel said, his voice cold.

'I'm really sorry.' El-i-miir pushed open the door to find Briel sitting on the bed in which Fes was lying. Aside from looking a little paler than usual, the woman could've almost been sleeping. But she wasn't. She was dead, just like Briel would be if he didn't pull himself together.

'Get out, El-i-miir,' Briel sobbed.

'Briel,' El-i-miir began. 'You need to listen to me very carefully. We're about to be attacked by a legion of . . .' She trailed off at the sound of a distant explosion. 'We're presently under attack by a legion of silts. We have to escape the city before it's too late.'

'Just go,' Briel sobbed. 'Leave me here ta die.'

'I'm not leaving you here,' El-i-miir insisted. 'Fes is gone. I'm very sorry for that, but that doesn't give you an excuse to give up. She wouldn't have wanted that.'

'Please.' Briel turned with tears in his eyes. 'Please just be on ye way. I can nah leave her like this.'

'If you don't get up,' El-i-miir said threateningly, 'I'm going to make you get up.'

'What?' Briel asked in confusion.

Already fearing that she'd wasted too much time El-i-miir threw a translucent cord from within her aura and tightened it around Briel's. The man stood up and El-i-miir wriggled him into his winter coat. 'Right, let's go,' El-i-miir said through his mouth.

'Seteal,' Briel shouted as he thudded along the corridor. 'Are you ready yet? Because I'm afraid that we're running out of time.'

'Briel,' Seteal gaped. 'Your accent . . . it's gone.'

'Sorry,' El-i-miir shook her head. 'I forgot who's mouth I was speaking out of.'

'You affiliated him?' Seteal said in disbelief. 'I wonder about you sometimes, El-i-miir. I really do,' she grumbled before tightening the sling she'd made hastily out of Parrowun's blanket and put it over her shoulder.

El-i-miir made Briel run down the hallway. When she found Ieane through his eyes she ordered her to meet them at the front door as soon as possible. Then she made him hurry over to the meeting point and remain fixed in place.

'Mistress Daorey,' El-i-miir turned to the old woman. 'You're still not dressed.'

'Of course not,' Mistress Daorey murmured. 'I'm not going anywhere at this time of night.'

'That's ridiculous.'

'And don't you dare use any of those Elglair tricks on me either, young lady,' the woman snapped. 'This is my home. I've lived here for fifty years. I raised my children here and nursed my husband on his death bed. Racing across the world is a young woman's game.' Mistress Daorey made her way over to the kitchen sink, from beneath which she procured a large double-barrelled gun. 'If those monsters are coming,' she hefted the weapon, 'I'll give them one torrid of a fight!'

'Fine,' El-i-miir replied, unable to help but feel admiration for the woman's spirit. 'Thank you for taking us in.' She kissed Mistress Daorey on the cheek. 'All the best,' she stated, before rushing to the front room where the others were waiting.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT

Seeol stood on top of Mistress Daorey's house. He was bitterly upset about Fes's death and couldn't stand to be inside--or anywhere near Parrowun, for that matter. He knew the truth. Seteal knew it, too, however much she tried to ignore it. Seeol wasn't a fool. He knew it wasn't a sickness. Every time Parrowun started crying, people started bleeding. He was a mean baby.

There was a moth half squished beneath Seeol's toes. He'd caught it earlier, but it'd long ago stopped wriggling. He'd lost his appetite. He looked down at the creature and plucked out its wings. He'd never liked the taste of them for some reason. Giving into his emotions, Seeol snatched the moth up in his beak and beat it repeatedly against the roof of the house. Why did Fes have to die? She was such a merry island, whatever that meant.

Seeol's head snapped toward the south when he heard a bell chiming. He cocked his head sideways, curious as to what had caused the sound. He fluttered down to the eaves and peered over the edge to find El-i-miir standing outside staring blankly into the distance, her beautiful hair being tossed about in the wind. He wanted to talk to her, but didn't dare. She'd made her feelings clear. El-i-miir leapt back into the house and started shouting. Perhaps she'd felt him watching her. Now he'd made her cranky.

Moments later the front door flew open and El-i-miir ran outside along with Briel, Ieane and Seteal with Parrowun. 'Quickly,' El-i-miir urged the others. 'We don't have much time.'

Shouting rang out in the south as the bell continued to chime. A distant popping sound told Seeol that someone was firing a pistol. 'El-i-miir,' Seteal urged her friend nervously as she eyed the flickering shapes flitting about the night sky.

'Just let me concentrate,' El-i-miir replied, her head moving back and forth as though she were watching something only she could see. Of course, she probably was watching something that only she could see, when Seeol really thought about it. 'This way.' She pointed and started moving along the street, but having concentrated so much on one thing, she'd clearly forgotten another.

Briel stumbled away from the group and soon fell behind as they made their way down the road. His eyes were red and filled with tears. He moaned deep and low, before turning to run south.

'Briel, shtop!' Seeol cried, swooping after the Merry Islander. 'You ish going the wrong ways.'

'Briel!' Seteal called from farther up the road, the others having noticed his absence. 'This way.'

A silt slid around a dimly lit corner glancing about suspiciously as she went. Briel set off at a surprising pace for a man of his build. He grunted and put his full strength into approaching the demon. Seeol dove for his back, dug his talons into Briel's coat and beat his wings as hard as he could in a useless effort to slow the man.

'Briel,' Seeol begged. 'Please stopping.'

The silt across the street turned in surprise when she heard shoes slapping the pavement. She took a nervous step back when she saw the sheer bulk of her attacker and put a hand on her scythe. Realising the futility of his efforts, Seeol released Briel's coat and landed on the road. Stumbling on alone, the Merry Islander gasped out exhausted words that probably made little sense to the silt he was approaching.

'Please,' Briel choked out. 'Ye can save her. It nah take long. There still be time. I beg ye,' Briel leapt forward and fell to his knees. The silt's eyes bulged as she clearly thought she was about to be struck. She swung her scythe as Briel fell and the blade hacked hallway through his neck.

Seeol leapt into the night, retreating from the horrifying scene. Female screams told Seeol that the others had witnessed what'd taken place. They didn't wait for him. Fearing for their lives, they hurried for the safety of the north along with increasing numbers of locals that spewed out onto the street. Seeol flew south as fast as he could, but by the time he got to where most of the action had taken place, the violence had all but simmered to an end.

Ilgrin stood at the top of a tree in the centre of a park dressed in finer clothing than Seeol had ever seen. The demon military gathered about the tree, countless soldiers gazing at him adoringly. Other demons loomed over fearful-faced humans that'd been forced to give up their weapons and sit in the dirt.

'We have not killed you!' Ilgrin shouted across the park so that anyone in the vicinity would hear. 'You see, we are capable of showing mercy.' Seeol glanced around the park and saw plenty of bloodied human remains, leading him to believe that Ilgrin meant to say that they hadn't killed all of them. 'Not another life needs to be lost,' he continued with conviction, 'but you must all be made aware that this city now belongs to Old World. I am your leader and you will become Sa'Tanists.'

Seeol gaped at the arrogance Ilgrin exuded and could hardly believe he was staring at the very same silt he'd once considered a friend. He watched as the tall figure spread his wings and leapt effortlessly to the ground. He turned to one of the silts standing close by and ordered him to impose a ban on weapons for any human. Seeol gazed in astonishment at the large double-horned crown hanging from Ilgrin's belt and wondered at its significance.

'This transition needn't be troublesome,' Ilgrin announced. 'We wish only to live in peace.' He turned to stride across the park. Seeol took it as his opportunity, flying down from the rooftops and landing directly in front of him. 'Seeol!' Ilgrin froze in his tracks, a look of surprise on his face.

'Briel be dead,' Seeol stated. 'Is you army killed him.'

'I'm very sorry to hear that.' Ilgrin sheathed his scythe after a long moment of silence. 'He was a good man.'

'A good . . .' Seeol snapped, losing control of his temper. 'A good man? That is it? That is all that you is able to say?' The wind picked up, tossing Ilgrin's hair about and lightning struck somewhere close by. 'Briel was the bestest man.'

A pack of dogs charged into the park barking and snapping their jaws, running straight for Ilgrin. The silt easily evaded the animals by leaping back into the tree he'd recently come down from, but the branch he landed on broke and the silt toppled to the ground. One of the dogs leapt at him, but they immediately fell away howling in agony. White mist swam away from their bodies and the dogs ran away in fear as an angel stepped out of the dark.

'Thank you, Teah.' Ilgrin dusted off his shirt. 'I want every last house searched,' he stated, turning to one of his followers. 'Work quickly but thoroughly. There must be no weapons left unaccounted for.'

Seeol landed on Ilgrin's shoulder and bit his cheek. 'El-i-miish was here.'

'Ouch,' Ilgrin slapped Seeol off before slipping over in the mud. 'El-i-miir . . . is she okay?' His voice bore concern.

'So you does still have some of a heart.' Seeol bobbed his head. 'But I won't tell you. You is not deserving to know. You have become too naughty.'

Teah stepped forward, her curiosity having gotten the better of her. 'What an interesting little bird.'

'There's nothing interesting about it,' Ilgrin snapped, staring into Seeol's eyes. 'It's just a whisp-mutated owl. Why don't you fly away, Seeol. No one wants you here. Go back to Seteal and El-i-miir. Oh, but wait, that's right, they don't want you either. In fact, nobody does.'

'You is very cruel,' Seeol shouted before leaping into the night.

*

Noah crept through the trees beside the road, stalking three young women hurrying fearfully through the northern gates. He remembered one of them: the Elglair girl. El-i-miir had been taken prisoner by the affiliates when she'd come to Hades in search of Ilgrin. Yes, he remembered now. It was very clear she loved him, as disgusting as that was. Noah scratched his chin and watched her close, wandering whether it was possible Ilgrin had ever felt the same way about the feeble human.

El-i-miir's head snapped back in his direction and Noah froze, hoping the trees would be sufficient in keeping him hidden. A moment later she shook her head and hurried after the others. He would have to be careful about keeping his distance. He of all people knew what the Elglair were capable of. He wanted to crush her. He wanted to kill her and roll about in her blood, but he needed to resist such urges. He knew it was the whisp that'd made him think in such ways. If Noah wanted to regain his legion, he'd have to keep his head clear.

El-i-miir was the answer. Noah was sure of it. She was Elglair, but Ilgrin would refuse to kill her. Showing such weakness just might be enough to turn the legion against him. Noah smiled. But not yet. First he had to satisfy the urges that came with his new body. Noah slunk away into the dark looking for a stray human he might be able to kill.

*

Ilgrin pushed against the door and was satisfied to hear it creak open. He stepped into the dark interior, knowing that the palace was quite safe, having already been searched. Still, he refused to light a candle or lantern, for some reason favouring the dark. He made his way through the large building silently opening doors as he came to them before continuing on.

One door squeaked and Ilgrin froze when he eyed the interior. There was a small bed, low to the ground, with a pink bedspread. A doll with one eye had her head rested on the pillow and boasted a dopey smile. Her pigtails looked as though they'd been brushed recently. Ilgrin stepped over to the bed and sat down. He picked up the doll and stared into her eye. It was only when a wet tear sank into her cotton face that Ilgrin realised he'd been crying. Before long deep sobs wracked his body and he breathed in shuddering gasps.

Ilgrin had grown up in a bedroom not dissimilar to the one in which he now sat.

If the blanket had been brown and there'd been pictures of dragons on the walls, the room could've been his. Ilgrin had loved dragons as a little boy. He read fantasy books about them and dreamed of a world in which they existed. Perhaps among humans he felt a kinship with the fearsome leathery-winged creatures. Certainly now, he felt more similar to a dragon than he ever had before. Who was the child that belonged to this room? Had her mother or father been killed? Was she scared out there in the dark, placed under the guard of nightmare monsters?

In a fit of rage, Ilgrin tore off the doll's head and slammed the pieces down either side of him. Mankind had betrayed him again and again. If only they'd loved him. If only they'd been fair to him, he might've never been driven to such extremes. It was their fault!

'I'm so sorry, Briel,' Ilgrin whispered quietly, removing the crown from his belt and tossing it across the ground. 'You didn't deserve it.'

How would poor Fes be coping with her husband's passing? Ilgrin pictured the big man smiling and holding his wife. Those two had represented what any young couple dreamt of . . . what he could never have with El-i-miir.

'Ilgrin?' Teah said softly as she entered the room. 'Are you okay?'

'I'm fine.' Ilgrin quickly wiped his nose and stood up. 'I'm just perfect.'

'I'm sure it can't be easy,' Teah said softly, putting a reassuring hand on his chest.

'It's not.' Ilgrin stepped forward, nuzzling his face into her neck and wrapping his arms around her. He tried not to touch the wings if he could avoid it. They made it difficult to imagine that she was El-i-miir. 'Be with me.' He kissed her neck, picturing El-i-miir's pale pink flesh and the scent of her dizzying perfume. His hand moved steadily down her neck to open the top of Teah's dress.

'Oh, Ilgrin,' Teah panted, her voice quivering with desire as she moved her hand over the front of his pants.

Losing all patience, Ilgrin tore open Teah's dress and held her breasts. He kissed her neck, slowly reaching lower and lower until his mouth found her nipple. He kissed it gently, before moving back to Teah's mouth and kissing her deeply. Teah tore at Ilgrin's belt and unbuttoned his pants, which fell to the ground and tangled around his feet. He stumbled backward into the wall and heard it crack as he made an impacted.

After a short struggle, Ilgrin heard Teah's dress slip away entirely and she pushed her hot, naked body against his. Again they locked lips passionately before tumbling onto the little pink bed. Teah's hand slid down the length of Ilgrin's chest and stomach until she found her mark. She manoeuvred him into her and Ilgrin was unable to help but immediately thrust deep. Teah moaned as the two became locked in ecstasy, their bodies moving to the beat of passionate lust.

Ilgrin ached for the pleasure of being touched in such a way, but he kept his eyes squeezed shut for fear of catching a glimpse of his lover. The angel was one of the most beautiful creatures Ilgrin had ever laid eyes upon, but she was not El-i-miir. He grunted as he pushed into her. El-i-miir's beautiful blue Elglair eyes filled his mind. Her supple lips touched his. He buried his face into her neck. She released a gasp of climactic pleasure, and a moment later so did he.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

THE GATHERING WINDS

Jakob kicked his horse to a gallop, having chosen to give Kintor a wide berth. He didn't want to risk running into Ilgrin. After all, he'd been ordered to remain in Hel and assist the mothers and children. Such orders were an insult after everything Jakob had done for that silt. Just because he was human, didn't make him useless. Jakob knew what was coming and had family in Beldin who he still felt somewhat responsible for.

Ilgrin had lost his mind, originally only wishing to defend against the Elglair and then choosing to attack the Elglair. Now he wanted to take over the entirety of New World. And Jakob had little doubt that he could accomplish it with a legion so powerful as Hel. Oh, he'd said all the right things. He'd nodded and agreed. It was in a Sa'Tanist's best interest to agree with their Devil at all times. Jakob was all about self-preservation, but Ilgrin had gone too far. Never had there been a Devil before him willing to wage war on the entire human race.

Something struck Jakob's chest with enough force to knock the wind out of him. His horse continued galloping, but Jakob hovered in mid-air, the front of his shirt clutched in a huge grey fist. Noah's foul breath blew across his face as the mutant demon lowered his horned head.

'What a surprise,' his deep voice rumbled. 'You'll do nicely for supper.'

'Noah,' Jakob choked. 'No!' Noah opened his mouth to reveal razor sharp teeth that he lowered toward Jakob's throat. 'I'll do anything. I can get you Ilgrin,' he pleaded.

'I don't want Ilgrin,' Noah rumbled as he pulled away, his face lighting up with an idea. 'I want his girlfriend.'

'What?'

'There is an Elglair affiliate farther along this road,' Noah said. 'I want her.'

'How am I supposed to capture an affiliate?' Jakob recoiled at the impossibility of his task.

'I'd suggest you start by gaining her trust,' Noah replied chillingly. 'Just make sure to have her at the southern gates of Belos when Ilgrin's legion attacks the city. I'll be watching you. I know exactly how slippery a Sa'Tanist you can be, but don't dare make the mistake of trying to escape me. It would cost you very dearly.'

'As you wish, Noah.' Jakob swallowed nervously as the giant beast lowered him to the ground.

'Noah is dead,' the beast replied. 'My name is Sa'Tan.'

*

'My ladies,' a young man's voice called out from behind. Suspicious of just about everything, Seteal turned to eye off the blond, curly-haired man. 'I see you're in need of a mount,' he said confidently.

'Who are you?' Seteal narrowed her eyes as she removed Parrowun from her breast and wiped his chin.

'I've escaped the city. Much like yourselves.' The young man smiled broadly. 'As you can see, I have a spare horse. These animals are all I have so when I fled I took them with me, but I only need the one.'

'You're lying,' El-i-miir said softly. 'You weren't even in the city.'

'Quite right.' The man laughed nervously. 'You must be a very powerful gil.'

'Actually no.' El-i-miir narrowed her eyes. 'I never graduated.'

'I certainly wasn't in the city.' Jakob smiled reassuringly. 'I skirted past it. Having seen what was coming, I had no desire to get involved.'

El-i-miir nodded, satisfied by his adjusted answer. 'And you've decided to offer us your horses out of the goodness of your heart?'

'Well, no.' The man frowned. 'Have you ever tried riding one horse while guiding another? It's rather slow going. If you could ride my spare animal I'm sure we'd both benefit.'

'I'm Seteal.' She finally smiled, approaching to shake the man's hand.

'Jakob.' The young man nodded back. 'If the young lady wouldn't mind, she could share my mount . . .' He nodded toward Ieane who blushed and proceeded to introduce herself. El-i-miir climbed reluctantly onto the spare horse in front of Seteal. 'So where are you heading?' Jakob asked, encouraging his horse to a trot.

'Gor Na--' Ieane began, only to be cut off by El-i-miir.

'Belos for now,' she intervened.

'It's a terrible affair, this Old World invasion, isn't it?' Jakob said in a clear attempt at small talk.

'Perhaps more so for us than for you,' El-i-miir sneered.

'El-i-miir!' Seteal reprimanded. Clearly the woman had developed a dislike for the poor man, or maybe she was just upset about Briel.

'No, no.' Jakob shook his head. 'Your friend is right. I'd imagine that the Devil has a special vendetta against the Elglair. I've heard that your people had some involvement with angel possession.'

'You sure know a lot for a commoner,' El-i-miir said suspiciously.

'Well, you know how it is.' Jakob shrugged. 'Idle pub talk spreads like fire.'

'I don't think you even drink,' El-i-miir mused.

'You are very good.' Jakob clapped his hands together.

'She can detect any lie,' Ieane piped in.

'That's enough out of you, thanks, Ieane,' El-i-miir snapped abrasively. There was a short silence thereafter, before El-i-miir once again turned to Jakob. 'You look familiar to me. Have we met?'

'I imagine an Elglair as powerful as yourself feels that she's met most people before actually doing so,' the man said slowly and with a sense of caution that made Seteal feel nervous.

'Actually, no,' El-i-miir pursed her lips, but didn't pursue the conversation any further. 'Oh, Maker,' she gasped before ducking her head forward.

'Are you okay?' Seteal asked. Parrowun squirmed uneasily in his sling.

'Yes, I . . .' El-i-miir sneezed into her hand, which remained obscured from Seteal's vision. Parrowun's face flushed red and it crinkled up. He started to cry. 'I'm sure it's just a nose bleed,' El-i-miir said softly as Seteal attempted to comfort her son. She caught a glimpse of El-i-miir's hand and saw that it was spattered with blood.

'El-i-miir,' Ieane's face filled with fear when a droplet of blood fell from her nose as well.

'What in Maker's name is going on?' Jakob spat onto the road and Seteal noted his saliva to be tinted red.

'Stop the horse!' Seteal cried.

'I don't understand.' El-i-miir sneezed again, spraying the horse's main.

'Stop the Maker-forsaken horse!' Seteal shouted as she threw her leg over the side of the animal and toppled to the ground.

'What are you doing!?' Ieane squeaked.

'Just get away from me!' Seteal cried over her shoulder as she raced into the woods beside the road.

'Seteal!' El-i-miir shouted after her but didn't follow. Her voice faded into the distance as Seteal ran through the undergrowth, Parrowun wailing in her arms.

'Shh.' Seteal stroked his head. 'Mommy's here. Mommy loves you.' She rocked the child back and forth, kissing him on the forehead and clutching him tight. 'It's okay, baby. I've got you,' she whispered as slowly Parrowun regained his calm, dark eyes gazing up at her adoringly. Something snapped in the middle-distance and Seteal squinted against the harsh sunlight through the trees. She took a step back toward the road, satisfied that Parrowun would behave.

The loud snapping sound, similar to that of branches breaking caught Seteal's attention a second time. She turned around and squinted again through the trees. There was something. She lifted a hand against the penetrating sun to catch a glimpse of what seemed like a bulky, grey animal. Certain that her mind was playing tricks, Seteal cast her eyes over the strange shape until she reached the top. It was then that she saw it had an eye and realised that it appeared to be focused her.

Despite the thundering of her heart, Seteal was determined not to disturb Parrowun. She turned as calmly as she dared and hurried back to the road. The grey thing didn't follow and by the time she reached the others, she realised it was probably just her mind and the sun playing tricks on her after all.

'What was that all about?' El-i-miir frowned. 'You didn't think we'd caught what Fes had, did you?'

'Let's just go,' Seteal muttered, relieved to see that her friends and Jakob were now free of the bloody discharge. With a hand from El-i-miir, she leapt back onto the horse and they continued on their way.

'What if we'd been dying,' El-i-miir murmured. 'You'd just run away? Honestly, Seteal, the better I get to know you, the more peculiar you become.'

Ignoring El-i-miir's comment, Seteal cast a glance back into woods where once again, if only for a second, she thought she glimpsed the grey beast as it moved parallel to them. But she was just imagining things. Seteal often saw Master Fasil right before her eyes. It didn't mean he was really there.

She looked into Parrowun's big eyes and was surprised to find him smiling up at her. His tiny arm wriggled out of the blanket and he curled his tight little fingers around Seteal's thumb. Her heart melted at the sight. He was so tiny and yet already so strong. The grey beast vanished from Seteal's mind as she stared at her son with a heart full of pride.

*

Far-a-mael watched his new hadoan of thousands gathering in the plains above Esp. He smiled, but immediately regretted the decision as his lip tore open and some black gunk spilt onto his gown. He tried to wipe it away, but his hand only added a smear of puss to the garment. Grumbling disparagingly, Far-a-mael turned his attention back to the hadoan. Vague glimmers of light momentarily flickered into existence before his eyes as the Ways churned about their eternal dance. All too soon, the weaving vanished and Far-a-mael was left as blind as any ordinary human.

'It's time to get these men marching.' Far-a-mael turned, only to find his new sy'hadoan had vanished. The boy had a weak stomach and seemed almost always on the verge of throwing up in the presence of his War Elder.

'Do I have to do everything myself?' Far-a-mael shook his head and kicked his horse down the hill. He didn't dare try affiliation, not in his present state. Far-a-mael had lasted a great deal longer than he'd expected, but didn't imagine his luck was going to hold out. His dream was to return to Old World and see Hel in the hands of the Elglair, but he was determined to at least make it so far as Beldin where he could recruit more New World soldiers to the cause.

'Das-nil!' Far-a-mael shouted when he spotted the sy'hadoan. 'Sound the marching trumpet.'

'Yes, War Elder Far-a-mael.' The boy turned and scurried away as quickly as he dared. Moments later the trumpet blew and a sea of horses and their riders surged forward.

'Onward to Beldin,' Far-a-mael said tiredly.

CHAPTER THIRTY

DISRUPTION

El-i-miir wandered through her frozen dream. Great and unusual ice structures rose up around her, making her feel impossibly small among them. Before her was a blue glass flower. It had been trodden on by a thousand feet. Its stem had snapped and its petals had shattered. 'He's coming,' hissed the wind. Bathed in the shadow of immense structures, El-i-miir picked up the sharp remains of the glass flower. She put it close to her nose, but the ordinarily pleasant scent had become a bitter odour.

'Wake up. He's coming,' mourned the Ways.

A tear slid down El-i-miir's cheek as the musty smell of reality entered her nostrils. She ignored the pull, preferring to remain in this sad representation of the Frozen Lands. It was still home . . . after a fashion. 'Get up. Run,' the words screamed in her mind. The sun began to rise in the east and the tops of the tallest sculptures started melting. El-i-miir realised she had nothing on her feet when cold water began to trickle up between her toes.

'Get up and run,' El-i-miir whispered to herself. 'It's Jakob. He's a Sa'Tanist. He's coming for you.'

El-i-miir's eyes shot open in the pitch-black of night. The sky was covered in cloud, leaving the campfire as her only source of light. A cloth-covered hand flew toward her face. Gasping, El-i-miir snatched for the Ways, but the cloth has already pressed against her nose. She gasped and inhaled. A sharp pain jabbed at her lungs and her forehead ached. El-i-miir felt her head hit the dirt as she faded from reality.

*

Jakob's heart pounded furiously as he choked on fearful gulping breaths. She'd woken. He couldn't believe he'd succeeded. Glancing across the fire, Jakob was relieved to see that both Seteal and Ieane were sleeping peacefully. Only Seteal's creepy little baby watched him through unblinking eyes.

After regaining his composure and tucking the poisoned rag into his pocket, Jakob snatched at El-i-miir's arms and dragged her into his arms. Grunting and stumbling, he made his way over to the horse. He'd been travelling with the women for a number of days and was certain the southern gates of Belos were close. He threw El-i-miir over the large animal, took the reins and climbed up behind her.

'Jakob?' Seteal called groggily behind him. He turned to see her standing several strides away rubbing her eyes, the firelight shining through her tattered dress and outlining her narrow frame. 'What're you doing? Is that . . . El-i-miir!' she cried.

'Ya!' Jakob kicked the horse into a gallop, leaving Seteal crying out in protest behind him. He'd killed the second animal with larger amounts of the same poison he'd used to knock out El-i-miir. The others would have no way of catching up. Jakob had grown quite fond of El-i-miir and her friends—but, of course, he was under no delusions as to who or what he was. And Jakob was a survivor. If he was good at nothing else, he was the very best when it came to that.

When Jakob found the southern gates of Belos, he pulled his horse to a stop, preferring not to get too close for fear of being questioned about the unconscious Elglair strapped to his horse. The hours dragged by and Jakob found himself becoming increasingly impatient. Finally, he snatched the rag from his pocket and pushed it over El-i-miir's nose a second time out of concern that the first dose would soon wear off. Still, he waited. When the first light of a new dawn touched his flesh and there were still no sign of Ilgrin or Noah, he couldn't help but worry that he'd made a mistake.

Squinting into the south, Jakob tried to make sense of the strange occurrence taking place before him. The trees were quivering, their leaves showering to the earth in mass. Demon faces appeared, great wings flaring and feet snatched at branches as the creatures leapt away from the tree line.

*

Ilgrin beat his wings through the night sky. He looked to his left and smiled at Teah. To his right, Ilgrin admired the deep purple and red light of a new dawn. In the distance, the city of Belos glittered with the first rays of sunlight. With a single hand gesture, the entire legion swooped so that they flew low through the treetops, thereby lessening their chances of being noticed ahead of schedule.

The woods came to an abrupt end only slightly south of the city. Ilgrin leapt from the safety of the branches, his crown bouncing softly against his hip. It came from nowhere. His presence was completely unexpected. Two giant grey silt feet snapped around Ilgrin's torso and together the beast and he plummeted. The silt legion cut its journey short, ceasing their travels through the trees outside the southern gates. Ilgrin came to a stop on his back in the dirt. Noah pinned him down beneath one heavy foot.

Belos had not been blind to the presence of a legion and the watchmen in the towers started firing arrows. Of course, such feeble defences were easily overridden by a handful of Ilgrin's soldiers. Several demons leapt to Ilgrin's rescue, but Noah simply battered them away. Many others watched in curiosity from the trees. Perhaps Ilgrin hadn't secured the confidence of his legion quite to the degree that he'd thought.

'Noah,' Ilgrin gasped for air. 'What're you doing?'

'I am not Noah,' the impossibly tall demon rumbled, tossing his head irritably . . . or perhaps in order to draw attention to his horns. 'I am Sa'Tan reincarnated. I am the true Devil and you are an imposter.'

'We've been through this.' Ilgrin got to his feet, Noah having released him. 'You cannot touch the crown.'

Noah turned to the gathering crowd. 'And how many of you have challenged this? You've all so blindly trusted a false prophet. Fools. Narrow and difficult is the path leading to Hae'Evun. Wide and easy is the path to destruction,' the beast quoted the Holy Tome. 'You have taken the easy path, but I'm here to offer you a second chance.'

'Don't listen to him.' Ilgrin shook his head in disbelief. 'This creature is trying to deceive you. Here, I'll prove it,' Ilgrin struggled with his belt until he'd removed the double-horned crown. 'Take it,' he waved it at the beast. 'Go on, take it!'

Fingers as thick as Ilgrin's forearm reached for the crown and wrapped determinedly around one of the horns. Ilgrin gaped as Noah's flesh began to boil, but the beast didn't react in any way other than to laugh. It seemed he was impervious to pain. 'You see,' he boomed. 'It's fake!'

Ilgrin gaged at the smell of burnt flesh, but the rest of the legion was too far away to have noticed it.

Noah raised the crown between two densely muscled arms and crushed it down to a twisted mess before throwing it at Ilgrin's feet. 'Follow your true devil, not this pacifist,' he snarled. 'This imposter wants you to live with mankind in peace. But I ask you why? They have hated us since the beginning because they know well that we're superior to them in every way. Let us take their world and leave not one of them here to challenge us.'

'Don't listen to him,' Ilgrin implored the silts who were now moving about irritably in the trees. 'Please hear my voice. I am Sa'Enoch, the son of the She-Devil that Noah's father had assassinated.' He pointed an accusing finger. 'Don't trust his words.'

'Very well,' Noah rumbled. 'If it's further proof you need . . .' He laughed cruelly. 'Jakob,' he beckoned.

Ilgrin turned to see the man he'd thought was his friend riding out of the trees on a black horse. There was a limp body lying across his lap. Ilgrin traced his eyes along the figure, his heart beating and his breath coming in short bursts. His eyes reached her face and a small cry escaped his lips. Her pale face. Her black hair. The touch of her warm fingers. The smell of her fine perfumes. Ilgrin's hands began to shake as Jakob dragged the unconscious body from the back of his horse.

'Show them,' Noah roared. 'Show them what she is.'

'I'm sorry?' Jakob whispered, his eyes meeting Ilgrin's for no more than a second before he looked away. He knelt in the dirt and split El-i-miir's eyelids open with his fingers. A gasp of recognition filled the trees as the legion bore witness to the white pupil of the Elglair.

'That's right,' Noah wrapped a hand around El-i-miir's body and lifted her into the air like a rag doll. 'This is one of those with whom your so-called Devil declared war. Not only that, but this particular Elglair was been trained as a gil and she is a master affiliate.'

Demons leapt from the trees to surround Noah, all of them peering at El-i-miir eagerly. An overly ambitious silt leapt forward with a blade in hand, but Noah battered him away and turned to Ilgrin.

'Sa'Enoch.' He lowered his hand and unfurled his fingers so that El-i-miir's delicate body was revealed. 'If you are the Devil, the one true descendent of the first, then you will do us the honour of proving it. Kill your enemy,' Noah rumbled, handing Ilgrin a jagged knife.

'Ilgrin!' A familiar voice pierced his ears, a scream in the distance. 'Don't.' The legion shuffled uneasily as Seteal hurried boldly down the centre of the road with Ieane stumbling in tow.

'Do not be distracted by this human diversion,' Noah grunted. 'Kill her, Ilgrin. She is only human. These are your people. Prove to them what kind of devil you are.'

Ilgrin squeezed the knife handle and ran his eyes across El-i-miir's face. She'd called him a monster and she was right. He was a demon in every way. Ilgrin put a finger to her red lips, before moving his hand slowly to cup her cheek. He lifted the blade, his eyes filling with tears.

'For Maker's sake, do it, Enoch!' Teah cried desperately, having recognised the danger of his position. 'It's just one human.'

The sun burned the side of Ilgrin's face and a droplet of sweat fell from his cheek to splash down on El-i-miir's forehead. He lifted his chin at the sound of tiny fluttering wings. Seeol stood in the dirt, his piercing golden eyes tore into Ilgrin's soul and bit into his heart.

'Pleash,' the little bird's whole body shook uncontrollably. 'I loves her. Please.'

'Ilgrin!' Seteal screamed, coming up some fifty strides behind. 'What're you doing?'

'Listen to the human,' Noah rumbled. 'Prove to the entire lgion just how weak you are, Ilgrin Geld.' He sneered the name with contempt.'

'I'll bring you back,' Ilgrin sobbed over El-i-miir. 'I swear I'll bring you back.'

Noah leaned forward to whisper, his tone insidious. 'It's silver.'

'Ilgrin, don't do it,' Seeol pleaded.

'Leave her alone,' Seteal screamed, her voice and face red and raw.

'Enoch.' Teah's face flushed with desperation. 'Hurry up and do it.'

Ilgrin stretched out quivering hands and put the tip of the blade against El-i-miir's chest. 'I can't,' he breathed.

'And again, so everyone can hear,' Noah chuckled.

'I can't!' Ilgrin shouted, dropping the knife.

'No!' Teah cried out in frustration.

'Tell your people why.' Noah threw out his arms victoriously and spun in a slow circle, shaking El-i-miir about as he went. 'Why?'

'Because,' Ilgrin sobbed, 'I love her.' The words echoed in the silence that followed.

'Ilgrin Geld.' Noah's laughter filled his ears. 'You are human. Now.' He turned to the demons surrounding him. 'Kill everything. You can start with this,' he roared, tossing El-i-miir high into the air. Ilgrin stumbled back a few steps: stunned. He threw off his royal cloak and leapt into the air as El-i-miir's limp body started falling back toward the earth.

'Kill everything!' Noah shouted a second time to the sound of thousands of wings beating into the air.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

DISUNITY

Seteal grabbed Ieane's hand and dragged her across the road, but before they could reach the tree line, the girl was snatched away in metal talons. Seteal threw her arms protectively around Parrowun and hit the ground as a demon dove for her. The silt missed her by a handswidth, but Parrowun toppled out of his sling and hit his head on the road. His scream made Seteal's heart break as she gathered him up in her arms and kept running.

A mangled corpse toppled through the trees and became tangled in the lower branches in front of Seteal. She gagged, catching a glimpse of Ieane's lifeless eyes and blood spattered face. Seteal gasped as branches whipped at her and pulled on her dress. A look behind told her that she wasn't being pursued. There were plenty of humans for everyone within the city walls. Parrowun screamed, his face flushed red, his pink gums flashing as he wailed.

'I'm sorry,' Seteal held him tight. 'I know it hurt. I've got you,' she moaned as a droplet of blood fell from her nose and landed on his sling.

'Please!' Seteal cried desperately, rocking him and patting his back. 'Please stop,' she begged, falling onto all fours in the mud and coughing up a spray of blood.

*

The silt swooped through the air swinging El-i-miir about like a trophy. Ilgrin swept down over him and slammed a dagger into his neck. He put his arms around El-i-miir and patted her face as they fell through the sky.

'Wake up,' he begged. 'Wake up.'

'Showing them who you really are?' Noah's voice filled Ilgrin's ears as the beast wrapped each of his feet around his captives respectively. Ilgrin's wings ached as Noah squeezed. El-i-miir dangled from the other foot, her eyes remaining closed. 'Kin slayer.'

'Stop!' an avian voice cried as Seeol dove toward them. The elf owl thrust out his tiny feet and latched onto Noah's nose and lip. 'You is a bad monster!' he shrieked before proceeding to rip out small chunks of Noah's face with his beak.

Noah growled as he swooped and spiralled dangerously. He swatted at Seeol, but somehow each time he missed his mark. A storm gathered quickly in what'd previously been a clear sky. Noah fell into the throngs of battle, but refused to release Ilgrin or El-i-miir. Seeol leapt and dipped about his face, biting him again and again.

'What is this?' Noah roared, unable to make sense of his inability to crush a miniscule bird.

Noah fell out of control, bowling through the legion as they dipped and flew. Blades accidentally scratched at his back and jabbed into his side. Talons raked his arms and legs, leaving gouges that rained blood on the city below.

'Get it off!' Noah shouted, slapping at his face to no avail.

Thunder and lightning lit up the green sky and hail stones began to fall, the largest and most dangerous never failing to hit Noah.

'Let my friendlies go!' Seeol raced across Noah's face and ripped off his earlobe. 'My friends.' He took a bite of his nose. 'My Miish Miish!'

He bit the beast's eyeballs and finally with a cry of defeat his toes unfurled and El-i-miir fell.

Ilgrin followed. In that moment, the battle ceased for him. Not a soul existed, but for hers. Her face was placid, dress billowing up around her and arms flailing lifelessly. The earth rushed up to take her and Ilgrin stretched out his toes. Elglair eyes burst open, sky-blue with white spheres of cloud at their centre. Her face was one of sordid disbelief. The city streets came closer and El-i-miir's expression was one of terror. She screamed as Ilgrin dipped toward her. He snapped his feet unevenly around her waist and lower leg. His wings flared, Ilgrin braced himself for impact. The tallest buildings rose up above them. He pushed his wings against the fall and tumbled along the road.

A human soldier raised his sword about to plunge it into Ilgrin's chest, but his eyes glazed over and he ran away screaming like a child.

'Thanks.' Ilgrin turned to find El-i-miir limping toward him, having affiliated his attacker.

She narrowed her eyes and gritted her teeth. 'Get inside.'

'What do you . . . ?' Ilgrin trailed off as his mind fogged over and he felt himself moving toward a small building on the corner.

El-i-miir hurried along beside him. She glanced at him intensely and immediately Ilgrin knew what he had to do. Unquestioningly he slammed his shoulder against the door so that it burst open. Only once El-i-miir had entered the dark interior did Ilgrin follow. He peeked around the door to make sure no one had seen them before closing it carefully. El-i-miir and Ilgrin opened their mouths simultaneously and spoke the same words in perfect harmony.

'Do you want to tell me what the torrid is going on here?'

'Well?' El-i-miir added after a short pause, releasing him from her possession.

'Oh . . . I'm sorry,' Ilgrin shook his head uneasily. 'I thought I asked the question. You affiliated me!'

'I'm not sure whether I can trust you.' El-i-miir waved her hands about frantically. 'How did I get here?'

'It was Noah,' Ilgrin said in despair. 'He played me like a fool. And Jakob . . . I can't believe I trusted him.'

'Jakob?' El-i-miir gaped. 'I knew there was something off about him. Tell me everything.'

'Jakob is my friend . . . or, at least, I thought he was,' Ilgrin said sadly. 'He's the Sa'Tanist who helped me overturn Du'Korah, the previous Devil.'

'Oh, Ilgrin, you are a fool!' El-i-miir cried. 'Your parents must've warned you about demon worshippers. They must have! You know their kind cannot be trusted.'

'Well, yes, of course,' Ilgrin said back, 'but they also told me that my kind were entirely evil.'

'Aren't they?' El-i-miir replied somewhat hysterically. 'Look around you.'

'It wasn't meant to be this way.' Ilgrin sighed. 'I didn't want anyone to die. It worked in Kintor and I've heard we've had the same results in Sotrel and Sham.'

'What?' El-i-miir gasped.

'It's true.' Ilgrin smiled. 'We took Noble in Shinteleran as well. Compared to the kind of war Far-a-mael was hoping to start, there's been relatively low loss of life. Only the armies were destroyed, but the average citizen has only had their weapons confiscated.' Ilgrin shuddered at the sound of screams being cut short in the streets.

'Have you been to Sham, Ilgrin?' El-i-miir said slowly.

'Well, no, not yet.' He frowned. 'I've been leading the primary legion.'

'Have you been to Noble?'

'No.'

'Sotrel?'

'No.'

'Oh, Ilgrin.' El-i-miir covered her mouth. 'I'm afraid you've trusted too much.'

'You don't know that,' Ilgrin grumbled. 'You're just assuming the worst.'

'Look how easily they've turned against you,' El-i-miir pointed through the window at one of the city walls. 'How do you know that they weren't only being loyal to you on account of their steadily diminishing faith in the Holy Tome? They're all too willing to turn back to murder at the flip of a hat.'

'It wasn't like that,' Ilgrin said furiously. 'Noah held the crown. He tried to get me to kill you. I wouldn't and so they believed him and . . . um . . . they're not all evil. They can't be,' he finished weakly.

'Crown?' El-i-miir cocked her head. 'I don't know what in Maker's name you're talking about. All I know is that someone you called your "friend" kidnapped me in the dead of night and offered me up to a legion of demons. From where I'm standing, you don't seem to be a very good judge of character.'

'I . . .' Ilgrin's jaw worked up and down. He was dumbstruck as to how he should reply to such a perfectly made argument. But then again, he could scarcely remember what they were even arguing about. 'I'm sorry,' he said at last.

'Yes, you're sorry. I'm sorry. We're all sorry, Ilgrin,' El-i-miir spat briskly as she moved to peek out through a dirty window. 'Unfortunately "sorry" isn't going fix what you've started here.'

Ilgrin approached slowly, but with a sense of surety. He held his breath and narrowed his eyes furiously, but refused to lose his temper. He put a hand on El-i-miir's shoulder and turned her around. 'This is not on my head, El-i-miir. Don't you dare forget it. Not for a single second. Your people started this, not mine.' He prodded the air with his finger a milliwidth from El-i-miir's face. 'Maybe it's even your fault personally.'

'What?' El-i-miir scoffed. 'You've lost your mind.'

'No,' Ilgrin snapped. 'Think about it. If you'd warned Seteal about Far-a-mael instead of being such a coward, she'd have never gotten to the Frozen Lands. Seeol would still be in Narvon Wood killing stray dogs and wouldn't have been travelling with you on the road out of Sitnic. Without Seeol there to change into his other self and kill Emquin, Far-a-mael wouldn't have captured me. He wouldn't have been able to concoct a story about an Old World invasion and the Elders would've rejected his application of War Elder.'

El-i-miir stared at Ilgrin for a long time, her face scrunched up in disbelief. 'That is just so convoluted,' she said after a pause.

'Yes,' Ilgrin winced at his own speech. 'It kind of was. Even so, this war is the fault of the Elglair.'

'I have to find Seteal,' El-i-miir said dismissively, her eyes becoming distant as she tapped into the Ways. 'She's in the woods to the south. Goodbye, Ilgrin,' she stated without even the slightest hint of affection.

'But,' Ilgrin gasped, 'I just saved your life.'

'How very gallant of you,' El-i-miir said, exiting the musty building without a backward glance.

'El-i-miir,' Ilgrin raced after her and onto the street.

'Watch out, miss,' a soldier barked loudly, racing toward them.

'Leave us.' El-i-miir tossed her hand lazily and the man continued past. A shadow fell over them. Large wings spread and a silt swooped. Ilgrin snatched out his scythe, but El-i-miir spun around with a snarl and the silt disappeared back the way he'd come.

*

'Seteal.' Someone shook her shoulder. 'Seteal, get up.'

'What?' She rolled over, but immediately felt giddy. 'El-i-miir? Ilgrin!' She gasped, spotting the silt with Parrowun cradled in his arms.

'He was crying,' Ilgrin said softly. 'You've lost a lot of blood.'

'Give him to me.' Seteal grabbed a handful of grass and pulled herself along the ground. 'He's mine. What're you doing here anyway? I thought you wanted to kill us all or some such.'

'I never wanted that,' Ilgrin said, but he failed to make eye contact and moved his feet uncomfortably in the dirt.

'Give me my son,' Seteal said forcefully while allowing El-i-miir to guide her to her feet.

'Are you strong enough?' Ilgrin asked.

'Give him to me,' Seteal lunged for the baby and snatched him from Ilgrin's arms. 'You can't hurt him. I won't let you.'

'Hurt him?' Ilgrin gasped, his expression reflecting his disgust. 'Why would you even say that?'

'Seteal? Are you all right?' El-i-miir put a hand on her shoulder, but all Seteal could see was Master Fasil's hairy knuckles. Her dress was covered in blood. There was dirt on her face. Her hair was a mess and there was a bruise on her cheek.

'Get away from me!' Seteal cried out irately.

'Seteal.' El-i-miir reached out to her, but the woman responded only by turning to run, dodging around trees and racing through knee-high grass. 'Slow down,' El-i-miir panted as she hurried after her and Ilgrin leapt from tree to tree.

Once outside the tree line, Seteal ran onto the road to look for help. El-i-miir leapt toward her, spun her around and slapped her across the cheek. 'Do you want to get us killed?'

'I'm sorry,' Seteal shook her head and tried to control her sobbing before Parrowun seized the opportunity to start crying as well. 'I don't know what's wrong with me. Trapped in here, I feel like I'm losing my mind.'

'Is that . . . ?' El-i-miir trailed off, focusing on something over Seteal's shoulder. As she turned to see what the woman was looking at, Ilgrin's face crumpled into one of fury. With two powerful beats of his wings he crossed the road and slammed a fist into Jakob's stomach. He picked the man up and threw him across the dirt so that he continued sliding several strides.

'Ilgrin,' Jakob gasped. 'Stop,' he lifted his hands protectively, but they were useless against the strength of a demon.

'Why?' He slammed a fist into Jakob's face so that his blood spattered the dirt. 'Why?' He threw the man's head back against the road.

'Stop it, Ilgrin,' El-i-miir shouted. 'You're killing him.'

'And?' Ilgrin tilted his head, his face an expression of malice. He put a hand to Jakob's throat, wrapped his elongated fingers around it and squeezed.

'I can explain,' Jakob spluttered, his eyes bulging.

'Then do it quickly,' Ilgrin growled.

'Noah made me do it,' Jakob squirmed. 'He'd have killed me otherwise.'

'Then you should have let him,' Ilgrin said in disgust, but removed his hand anyway. 'You're a worm.'

'I know that,' Jakob panted. 'I'm sorry for what I did to you,' he wheezed at El-i-miir.

'What you did is unforgiveable.' She shook her head in contempt.

Seteal's focus had been firmly fixed on the dirt at her feet. Her hair hung messily, shrouding her face, keeping her safely hidden from the world. Now she slowly raised her chin to look upon the assembly of unlikely associates. Her eyes locked on El-i-miir's and she found herself asking the woman a simple question. 'Is it?'

El-i-miir turned to face her. 'Pardon me?'

'Jakob kidnapping you: is it really unforgivable?'

'Of course it is,' El-i-miir said in frustration.

'I see.' Seteal nodded and turned away. 'Then you must really think me a fool for forgiving you.'

'Seteal,' El-i-miir whined. 'Where are you going?'

Moving one foot in front of the other, Seteal headed west, where she would be hidden by dense forest in circumnavigation of the city. 'I'm going home,' she said so softly that it was doubtful whether anyone heard. A moment later she found herself walking with Ilgrin to her right and El-i-miir to her left, Jakob seemingly having been left to fend for himself.

'I'm going to help you get there,' Ilgrin murmured sadly. 'It's the least I can do, all considering.' Whether he was referring to his recent activities as the devil, or his past decision to drop her in the field outside of Sitnic was a mystery to Seteal.

'Me, too.' El-i-miir bit her lip. 'I owe you that much.'

'Be quiet. Both of you,' Seteal snapped, having noticed Parrowun's sudden look of distress. 'It's okay, sweetie,' She kissed his warm cheek and hugged him tight. 'Mommy's here.'

*

Seeol twitched his tail nervously as he peered through the trees. The battle within the city behind him seemed endless, but nobody was interested in him. Apparently birds didn't factor in as much of a threat. He clicked his head toward a faint crunching sound and soon zeroed in on human footfall. When he heard female voices and spotted movement through the northern woodland, he decided to see if he'd discovered what he was looking for.

Having found a suitable tree to land in, Seeol gazed through the woods and his heart leapt joyously. There before him, standing together was Seteal, Ilgrin, and El-i-miir slowly picking their way north. He'd succeeded in saving them when attacking Noah. He'd been so worried that Ilgrin hadn't been able to catch El-i-miir in time, but here they were, living proof of his success.

Seeol's eyes dipped lower at the sound of a nasty, snotty sneeze. Parrowun was there also. Seeol shook out his feathers in irritation. That was one dangerous baby. Much like Seeol, he, too, was filled with darkness. Perhaps he would keep his distance for now. He would just watch them, making sure to keep them safe.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

MURDERER

It'd been a couple of weeks since they'd left Belos and Seteal was feeling much better. Parrowun hadn't once caused a fuss, Ilgrin had procured a cloak, and El-i-miir had managed to affiliate a horse breeder into giving them each a mount. They'd suffered many trials along the way, having been attacked by wild animals and caught in a terrible storm. Ilgrin would've suspected it to be Seeol's fault, but the little bird was nowhere to be seen.

Parrowun was a peculiar child. He was content when other children would've been miserable. He remained completely unfazed by the disasters that'd befallen them and yet on previous occasions, he'd burst into tears without any recognisable stimulus. When Ilgrin questioned Seteal about it, he quickly discovered that she preferred not to dwell on his unusual character. He was her perfect little boy.

El-i-miir had scarcely spoken two words since leaving Belos, which was fine with Ilgrin. He was quite enjoying a break from their previously endless bickering.

'We have a decision to make.' Seteal pulled her horse to a stop and squinted at Beldin's fortified walls in the distance. It was the largest city in Gordin, with a booming economy that rivalled the likes of Jenjol.

'I say we go in.' El-i-miir shrugged. 'We're running low on supplies and it wouldn't hurt to top up before we continue on to Gor Narvon.'

'Agreed.' Ilgrin nodded. 'You two make the necessary purchases and I'll wait outside the western gates.' With a nod of satisfaction, Seteal and El-i-miir made their way into the crowded city.

Making sure to keep a wide berth between him and the city, Ilgrin slunk through the trees toward the west. As he approached the road he came to an abrupt halt. 'No way,' he murmured in astonishment when he saw brightly polished shields reflected the morning sunlight. 'It can't be.' He squinted at the distant figure leading a seemingly endless army that trailed over the horizon.

A rather haggard looking Far-a-mael limped toward the city, leaning heavily on a stick for support. His hadoan kept a respectful distance, but did not falter from formation. The gates swung open at a shouted order and the hadoan entered. Overwhelmed by the sight before him, Ilgrin almost failed to notice the distant rumbling in the south, but not quite. The sound had become too familiar for him to ignore.

A black line appeared in the distant sky, silts dipping and swooping about the greater mass. In contrast to the Elglair, there was no recognisable formation at all. 'Torrid,' Ilgrin exhaled slowly and cupped his hands over his face, before turning to stare up at the giant city walls. Beldin was the next city on the demon hit list, but it was currently a city inhabited by thousands of Elglair and his friends were trapped inside. He had no choice but to warn them.

Ilgrin paced back and forth through the trees, becoming increasingly anxious as the legion drew closer. There was no way he'd find them. The city was huge.

'What do I do!?' he cried in frustration.

'You haves to warn them,' Seeol croaked, the sound taking Ilgrin by surprise and causing him to jump.

'Seeol?' Ilgrin spun around until he located the bird perched in a nearby tree. 'Seeol,' Ilgrin repeated, an idea already forming in his mind. He threw off his cloak and took a step toward the owl.

*

'I'm finally feeling somewhat normal again.' Seteal smiled at El-i-miir as the pair took a moment to gaze admiringly at expensive jewellery in a shop window. 'I think I may be ready to embrace life again, you know. I have my son and I'll be home soon. Father will undoubtedly help out however he can.'

'I'm glad to hear it.' El-i-miir smiled back, while inwardly recognising the absent-mindedness of Seteal's words. How long would it take for the legions of Hades to reach her miniscule village and destroy it? El-i-miir suspected not long. It was a strange twist of fate that New World's greatest hope of salvation now rested in the hands of Far-a-mael, the man who'd been the sole cause of all this senseless destruction.

'You will just love Elmsville.' Seteal giggled as they continued along the busy road. 'People say small towns are boring, but there really is plenty to do. Perhaps you'll stay.'

'Maybe,' El-i-miir said distractedly as she approached a stall selling a variety of breads.

'Morning, miss.' A portly fellow tipped his hat. 'I didn't think your type would be here quite so soon.'

'My type?' El-i-miir frowned, still distracted by an itching in the Ways. 'What is that?'

'What?' Seteal raised her eyebrows.

'Far-a-mael is here,' El-i-miir gasped when she recognised a familiar strand of light. It was different--filled with gaping holes and fraying sides, but it was Far-a-mael nevertheless.

'What, in the city?' Seteal enquired.

An explosion of excited gasps and screams arose in the west, immediately taking El-i-miir's attention. She and Seteal turned their faces to the sky where a solitary silt swooped about shouting manically. 'Is that . . . ?' El-i-miir trailed off.

'Ilgrin,' Seteal finished. 'What in Maker's great goodness is he doing?'

'El-i-miir!' Ilgrin's cry carried on the wind. 'Seteal!'

'He's looking for us,' El-i-miir said in astonishment.

An arrow flew through the air, but Ilgrin swung his fist toward it and it spun passed him on a sudden gust of wind. 'What's in his hand?' Seteal frowned. 'Is that an animal?'

'It's Seeol.' El-i-miir gaped. A pistol blasted several strides away. Again, Ilgrin went miraculously unharmed. 'I'll affiliate him closer.'

A moment later El-i-miir beat her wings and made her way east. She spotted herself and Seteal standing by the stall and released Ilgrin's mind as he closed in.

'The legion!' he shouted. 'They're coming.'

A silt soared over the city wall to the south, followed by another and another. Ilgrin landed heavily, just one of many demons now doing the same. The fellow behind the stall cried out in fear and ran for his life. A woman hurried screaming down the street, her daughter crying in her arms.

'We need to get out of here,' Ilgrin said urgently as he uncurled his fingers to reveal a rather dazed-looking Seeol.

'Again,' Seeol commanded. 'That was fun times.'

A young silt toppled through the air before hitting the ground across the road, where he screamed and clawed at his face, white mist reaching away from his pallid flesh. He howled in misery before becoming very still, the sieift fading against the blue morning sky.

'The Elglair brought their angels,' Seteal said wearily.

El-i-miir spun toward an explosion in the north. Masses of silts fell from the sky. Vibrant colours snaked away from the earth to penetrate demon auras and wrap them in horrors unknown. Wall archers took the opportunity with enthusiasm and arrows sprayed down from above. A gust of wind blew El-i-miir's hair over her eye. Cold metal talons snapped around her arm and before she could react, her feet had left the ground.

*

Ilgrin wasted a shared moment where he and Seteal stared at each other, before granting her an apologetic glance and taking to the sky. The air swarmed and it was impossible for Ilgrin to fly without occasionally slapping his wings against someone else's.

'El-i-miir,' he called, but his voice amounted to wasted breath in the melee.

The northern part of the city was packed with Elglair. Most were expert swordsmen. Others were formidable gils. Some had strange specialties that Ilgrin hadn't even seen or heard of. A seemingly endless supply of silts flew fiercely into the city. Many had landed atop the walls where they indiscriminately hurled the soldiers of Beldin over the edge to plummet to their deaths.

The characteristic black clouds of silt warfare made their presence known as demons were unfairly brought back from the dead. Whisps billowed this way and that. Some dissipated immediately. Most did not. Pet dogs became strange mutant creatures that prowled the streets lusting to kill. Well-built homes crumbled, crushing anyone cowering within. Ilgrin's jaw fell open in disgust when a whisp billowed away from one resurrected silt, only to take the life of another, who in turn was resurrected by the first.

'El-i-miir!' Ilgrin cried again, panic rising in his chest as he saw countless humans screaming through the air clasped between silt talons to be released once they were too high to survive the fall. 'El-i-miir!'

'I'm here!' a male voice shouted from above.

Ilgrin looked over his shoulder to see a silt carrying El-i-miir in his arms. His eyes were vacant. El-i-miir's were filled with the concentration required to beat someone else's wings. 'I've got you.' Ilgrin slowed behind the other silt and wrapped his arms around El-i-miir. The silt released her and flew away. 'Thank Maker you're okay,' Ilgrin dipped toward the ground.

The wind was torn from Ilgrin's lungs as something slammed into his ribs and El-i-miir screamed. The legion silt had returned. The man snapped his talons around El-i-miir's leg and started flying in the opposite direction. Caught off-guard, Ilgrin almost lost his grip, but managed to keep a hold of El-i-miir's wrist. At such a strange angle the wind snapped back Ilgrin's wing and he flailed out of control. El-i-miir screamed in pain as she was dragged in two separate directions.

'Affiliate him!' Ilgrin cried as he regained balance, but whether it was due to pain or fear, El-i-miir was unable to respond.

In an attempt to minimise the pull on El-i-miir's body, Ilgrin flew with their attacker. With a desperate grunt he leapt forward and swung his knife at the silt's back. He missed his target, instead plunging the knife into the legion soldier's wing and tearing a hole down its length. The silt cried out in pain as he spiralled uncontrollably, his split wing incapable of properly capturing the wind.

'Let her go.' Ilgrin swung a fist at the demon's face. Refusing to risk snapping El-i-miir in half, Ilgrin stopped beating his wings, instead clinging to the back of the wounded silt, falling together with him and El-i-miir. 'Let go!' Ilgrin shouted, again punching the silt in the head. And suddenly he did.

'Too dead,' the silt choked out as he saw the ground rushing up at them. With those simple words the struggle was turned on Ilgrin. 'Heal me,' he begged. 'Quickly. Heal me.' The legion silt clung to him mercilessly and Ilgrin threw open his wings, which only served in slowing their decent. He still had one arm clasped around El-i-miir's wrist, and only his feet and free hand to struggle against their attacker.

'Teah!' Ilgrin howled at a familiar site flying low above the rooftops. 'Save her!' he cried when the woman met his eyes. 'Please,' he whispered allowing El-i-miir to slide screaming from his grip. Without the additional burden, Ilgrin was able to retrieve his knife a second time to drive it into his attacker's stomach. 'Why don't you just die? All of you!' He shoved the dagger into the man's torso again and again until the body fell away, spraying blue blood as it went.

Ilgrin glanced about in panic, but was soon relieved to see El-i-miir gliding safely toward the ground beneath Teah's protective wings. He sighed and put a hand over his mouth as he headed toward the ground. The strange thing was that when he pulled it away it was covered in blood. Perhaps he'd been struck in the face and hadn't noticed in the heat of battle.

*

Among the throngs of silts he was a mere speck of dust. If he'd ever hoped to reach such heights--a near impossibility considering the wind--his chances were further dashed by how crowded the sky was. Any time Seeol attempted to reach even a few strides into the air he was knocked out of the way by wings hundreds of times larger than his.

After fluttering down onto the hot roof of a small building, Seeol surveyed his surroundings. There was so much death around him. He knew he was simple. He was only an elf owl, but he wished he could understand why everyone always wanted to kill each other. In all his travels around the entire world, it was all he'd ever seen. When life became too beautiful, darkness soon returned. Perhaps it was him. Perhaps it was his darkness that'd brought all of this on their heads. No . . . it was just the way of things. Animals killed each other all the time, from the smallest beetle to the largest beast. Death existed as a means to arrive at who should be allowed to live.

Tilting his head at the sky, Seeol watched the silt masses squirming and writhing as they snatched men and women from the ground and killed them in increasingly creative ways. Beldin soldiers fought back, but proved to be an insufficient fend. A cannonball sailed through the air and carved a hole of destruction through the demon masses. Seeol shook his head in bewilderment. It was a shame they couldn't all just be friends.

Seeol's heart was saddened. Dark clouds rolled over. His heart ached in fear for his friends. Wolves howled in the distance. He felt . . . wet. Seeol shook his face but couldn't shake the feeling. He put his beak against the thatch roof and rubbed it back and forth and examined a smear of bright red blood left behind. He couldn't understand why he would be bleeding. Perhaps one of those stray silt wings had hit him a little harder than he'd realised.

*

Seteal watched El-i-miir and then Ilgrin disappear into the crowd. She watched Seeol flutter weakly after them and realised she was alone in the middle of the largest battle she'd ever seen.

'Come on, baby.' Seteal cupped Parrowun's head in her hand and sprinted across the road. 'We'll go in here.' She wriggled the handle on the first door they came to, but it was locked. 'No, I guess we won't.'

A large dog growled across the street. There was something wrong with it. It was far larger than Seteal had first realised and beneath its fur its muscles bulged to unnatural proportions.

'Unnatural.' Seteal choked on the word. A whisp had made the animal its victim. 'Good dog,' Seteal said nervously, putting a hand out in front of her and backing away. 'Good dog,' she said with a quivering voice. The mutant dog snarled and leapt toward her. 'Good dog!' Seteal screamed and turned to run.

Parrowun wriggled irritably and sniffled in preparation to cry. 'Not now.' Seteal gritted her teeth as she raced down an alley between two houses and across a small backyard. The dog barked menacingly as it came closer. Seteal leapt up the back steps of one of the houses, raced through an open door and slammed it shut behind her. Parrowun's face was a red mass of tears. His chest rose and fell as he became increasingly upset. 'We're safe now,' she shushed him. 'I've got you Parrowun. Mommy's got you. Mommy's here.'

Parrowun's mouth burst open, an inhuman scream tearing from his throat. The dog slammed against the door, scratching, barking and yelping. Seteal raced over to a small table and snatched up a dagger. Spinning on her heels, she faced the door and waited for the animal to break through. Parrowun screamed louder still and the scratching and banging ceased. Seteal moved to the door and opened it just a crack. The dog was dead in a puddle of blood.

'Stop it, Parrowun,' Seteal pleaded, checking her nose, grateful to discover that it was free of blood. 'You want to feed?' She moved Parrowun's head toward her breast, but he refused to take.

'Stop it!' Seteal cried, rocking his tiny body. 'Just stop it!'

She turned in a slow circle, her ears filled with her son's piercing cries of distress. There was something wrong. Beyond Parrowun's miserable wailing she could hear nothing: no clashing swords or battle cries . . . just nothing. Moving cautiously through the empty home to the front door, Seteal took the handle and turned it.

The house was situated at the centre of the city overlooking the square. The square was full of soldiers and silts, but they didn't fight. Instead, they stumbled about coughing and choking. Seteal stepped out onto the landing and made her way over to the stairs to further investigate the peculiar scene before her. She raised her eyes in time to see the first of the air born silts tumbling to the earth, blue sprays of blood trailing behind them.

A nearby an'hadoan fell to his knees and vomited. Bright red chunks splashed across the pavement. He wiped a hand across his lips and stared at the mark on his sleeve as though he were unable to recognise what it was. Parrowun's scream pierced the square as countless others fell, rolling and moaning in pain as blood trickled from nostrils, ears, eyes, and anywhere else from which it could possibly escape.

Seteal stumbled onto the square and watched as a bead of blood fell from the tip of her nose. She watched the red spot fall to displace the dust at her feet.

'Parrowun,' she choked out as silts rained down around her. 'My Parrowun,' Seteal sobbed. 'Please. You're killing them. You're killing us all.' The child's scream intensified only to be interrupted occasionally by short gasps for air. 'You're killing Mommy.'

Seteal sat down, stars dancing across her vision. She felt blood trickling from her ears and her stomach became nauseous. She vomited up the red liquid as she'd very well expected she would. 'Mommy loves you,' she whispered before coughing and spraying blood across the dirt.

The world twisted sideways as Seteal's head hit the pavement. She gasped, but felt little pain. A soft fluttering sound brought an old friend clumsily into view. Seeol hit the ground and stumbled several steps, blood having matted his facial feathers.

'No.' Seteal felt a tear trickle from her eye. 'Not Seeol.' She reached out a hand and touched a finger to the side of his face.

'Is okay,' he croaked. His legs gave out, forcing him to rest on his keel bone. The little bird stared into Seteal's eyes as his began to close and she sobbed uncontrollably. The wind screamed in blind fury as the Ways boiled in their tormented desire to protect him, just as they always had. Seeol's features warped and for fractions of a second Seteal saw his other self, the beastly presence moaning on the edge of reality. But Parrowun was too strong. The air surrounding the bird warped and curved forward and backward and swirled about in fury as his feathers twitched and squirmed under the pressure. Those unfortunate enough to be close to him started screaming in their miseries, amplified a thousand times beyond that which Parrowun could've accomplished on his own. Of course, Seteal knew the answer. She'd known it all along.

'It's not okay,' Seteal panted.

'Is okay,' Seeol repeated, his voice almost inaudible.

'You can't ask this of me,' Seteal sobbed, her eyes filling with red tears. 'It's too much.'

'I know.' Seeol's face drifted toward the dirt. 'Too mush.' His claws turned inward, bunching together like a clenching fist.

Seteal felt for Ways, but there was nothing for her to find. 'Must I do it myself?' She sobbed bitterly. 'Must it be so cruel?' Numb fingers slid away from Seeol's face and traced their way along the pavement. They touched soft warm flesh. Cold fingers slid along Parrowun's tiny legs as Seteal found her way to his screaming face. Blank eyes stared at Seteal from a square where countless lives had been lost.

'Mommy loves you,' Seteal said through gritted teeth, wrapping her hand around Parrowun's throat. 'I will always love you!' she cried, in an attempt to drown out the sound of Parrowun's wheezing. 'I'm so sorry,' Seteal sobbed, her body shaking as she tightened her grip around the baby's neck. She felt his pulse diminishing and his struggling limbs coming to rest. By the time he'd stopped wriggling and his pulse had faded to nothing, Seteal found that she too was quite unable to move. She couldn't think. She'd done the unthinkable. She couldn't breathe. She was a monster.

'Sss,' Seeol hissed weakly. 'Seteal?' But she couldn't respond. No words abandoned her lips: but rather the wailing of bitter mourning. 'It's done,' Seeol croaked. 'Is so sorry.'

Seteal opened her eyes to find the elf owl standing shakily a handswidth from her nose. Through a blur of tears she saw tired figures dragging themselves to their feet, many even weakly resuming their senseless battle. Those silts who hadn't been killed while they were down, reascended to swoop clumsily over Beldin.

'I can't look at him,' Seteal choked, scarcely able to tolerate the feel of his limp body in her arms. 'Oh . . . I cannot have done this! I cannot have done this.'

'Go into the house,' Seeol said.

'Yes,' Seteal sobbed, climbing to her feet and stumbling back up the stairs she'd descended earlier. 'He can rest in here for a little while.'

Moving through the house, Seteal found that the only parts of her body not completely numb were the parts in contact with him. She still cradled his head. She didn't want to knock it. Maker forbid she disturb him. He might wake up and start crying. But he wouldn't wake up. Seteal pulled back the covers of a child's bed. It might've been his, had he been able to get a little older. Without looking she put his body into the sheets and pulled up the cover.

'Mommy loves you,' Seteal sobbed, sitting on the side of the bed. She kept her eyes locked on the white painted wall before her. 'I'll never forget you.'

'Love him? You won't even look at him.' Master Fasil put a gnarled old hand on her shoulder. 'I loved our son. You . . . you're a murderer.'

'No,' Seteal recoiled. 'I loved him. I did!'

Master Fasil vanished and Seteal forced herself to look at her son. 'Oh,' she gasped. His face was without colour, his eyelids half shut. There was a great deal of redness around his neck, but Seteal hid that by pulling up the blankets to his chin. 'I'm sorry you didn't get to grow up, Parrowun,' she said breathily, releasing a fresh batch of tears as his name rolled off her tongue. 'You truly will be wept for. There won't be a tearless day. I love you, my darling son.'

She kissed his forehead, making believe that it was still warm. 'I loved you.'

Revelation 2

20. Notwithstanding, I have a few things against thee, because thou sufferest that woman, to teach and to seduce mortal men to commit fornication.

21. And I gave her space to repent of her fornication, and she repented not.

22. Behold, I will cast her into a bed, and them that commit adultery with her into great tribulation.

23. And I will kill her child with death, and all the churches shall know that I am He that searcheth the reins and hearts, and I will give unto every one of you according to your works.

Revelation 16

3. And the whisp poured out his darkness upon the city: and it became as the blood of dead men, intending that every living soul died.

4. And the streets became as rivers and fountains of blood.

Scriptures of the Holy Tome

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

THE DISQUIET SPIRIT

Seteal stumbled through the front door and down the steps. She pressed the dagger's blade against her stomach, but couldn't find the strength to end her own life. She threw back her head and screamed, hating her mother for having given birth to her: a monster capable of taking her own child's life. For the barest moment, she closed her eyes, resting to the sounds of reignited warfare. When she opened them something caught her attention.

The old man swung his sword, cracking it against a swooping demon skull. He spun in a semicircle, taking out another silt with the precision of an expert swordsman. He made small gestures as he manipulated the Ways--although seemingly with some difficulty--to do his bidding. He was War Elder Far-a-mael.

Seteal moved toward the man as he engaged yet another demon in combat. As their proximity increased, she noticed Far-a-mael's decay had worsened since the last time she'd seen him. He was struggling in the use of his left arm. Parts of his skull were revealed through gaping sores on the back of his head where insects and maggots had made a home for themselves. His flesh gave off an odour that must've been almost unbearable to those foolish enough to meet him in battle. With a victorious cry, Far-a-mael outwitted his foe and thrust his sword through the silt's chest. Eyes widening with pain and finality, the demon fell to the road in death.

Far-a-mael stood alone and unhindered. Seteal reached him and placed a hand on his bony shoulder.

'Seteal?' The old man wheezed, turning slowly to face her. With a sharp thrust of her hand, Seteal plunged the dagger into the flesh beneath his ribcage. With a furious shout, she tore it free and again plunged it into his chest. Far-a-mael stumbled backward, his face revealing naught but sorrow. But at the last moment, his features changed, revealing an expression unrecognisable to Seteal until her grandfather whispered his final words.

'I'm so proud of you,' he said with his final exhaled breath. Far-a-mael maintained eye contact until he landed in the dust at her feet.

The air surrounding Seteal boiled as the anchor that'd chained her so long vanished into the nonexistence from whence it'd come. Insane laughter tore free of her chest as she threw back her head and stared into the darkening sky. Rain flooded down in torrents. Thunder rumbled endlessly and lightning struck the distant mountains. Denying herself the time it'd take to lay down, Seteal tore away from the desecrated flesh that'd imprisoned her.

It was someone else's body that fell. It was the body that'd killed her son. He was the son who lay in a stranger's bed, his little body haunting her as all the warmth of life abandoned him. That awful woman's body crumbled to the roadside, discarded: just another corpse on the battlefield.

Seteal bathed in the Ways, bending them and coiling thick bands around herself. She murmured on the winds of time and drank in the freedom of eternity. She glimpsed the other world and the silts inhabiting Hae'Evun before turning to ache at the decaying infant body lying in a stranger's bed. Fleeing from Parrowun, Seteal turned her attention to Beldin. Her presence entered the crowded city and light itself twisted and warped wherever her spirit wandered. Tendrils of Elglair power slithered around her and through her.

A deformed animal snarled, preparing to take a bite from the body breathing slowly by the road. Seteal almost allowed it, but when she saw her own pale face she realised that in some way she'd grown accustomed to the human a very long time ago. And there was a man--her father--who wished for nothing more than to see his daughter one last time. Seteal pulled on the winds and was satisfied to see the animal leap away in fright as the body drifted into the air.

The uninhabited body drifted into an upright position. She reached out and moved muscles to open her eyes. A portion of her spirit burrowing back into the body, forcing her head aloft and her arms to spread out to either side. Unable to master perfect control over the Ways, Seteal soon found that all sorts of objects were answering her call. Chunks of buildings that'd been blown apart in battle made their way into the sky along with corpses and shards of glass. Countless whisps caught her familiar scent and circled Seteal like hungry dogs.

A thousand faces turned to the sky where a single human drifted higher and higher. At first the silts dove at her, but they were taken by surprise when they were met with burning hot energy and plummeted to their deaths. Soon they would know . . . soon.

*

Ilgrin picked himself up, wiping the blood from his face as he went. 'El-i-miir?'

'Yes,' she replied, her eyes opening.

'Oh, thank Maker,' he murmured, before turning to find Teah already on her feet.

'I'm fine, too,' she hissed bitterly. 'Take care of your lover.'

'What happened?' Ilgrin shook his head disbelievingly as those surrounding them clambered to their feet. 'Fes's sickness?'

'I don't think it was illness that did this,' El-i-miir said before putting a hand to her stomach. 'Oh!'

'What is it?' Ilgrin put an arm around her for support.

'It's Seteal,' El-i-miir replied. 'She's free.'

'Free?'

'Yes. Far-a-mael anchored her and now it's gone and . . . so is he.'

'Far-a-mael's dead?'

'I believe so,' El-i-miir replied in astonishment.

Thunder rumbled angrily as lightning struck the distant mountains and rain flooded down in torrents.

'What is that?' Teah asked, her attention on the northern sky. There a tiny figure drifted into the air without wings to keep it aloft. Silts dove toward the stranger, but before they could reach their target, they were struck by lightning. 'It couldn't be,' Teah gasped, beating her wings to the north.

After throwing his arms around El-i-miir, Ilgrin flew over the low buildings in pursuit of the angel. He landed beside her and peered up to find a woman he knew well. The shredded hem of her white dress swished about her feet. Her soaked hair hung ragged over her shoulders. Her hazel eyes were focused on nothing. Countless pieces of debris spun around her while a hundred whisps danced and circled angrily. At times, the misty darkness entirely obscured Seteal from view as she drifted back toward the ground, but the whisps could never touch her.

'It cannot be,' Teah whispered in awe. 'She will descend in the clouds and every eye shall see . . .' The angel's eyes shone with elation. 'This woman . . . is the Holy Spirit.'

*

In the distance, Seteal felt her feet touch the pavement. She reached out to the body, knowing that it was utterly subject to her. The debris crashed down and the whisps dissipated as Seteal returned to her flesh.

Moving unhindered through shocked faces and stilled battle, Seteal found the elf owl where she'd left him. He was tired, even unable to move. Such a tiny animal could not have had a lot of blood to spare. Seteal scooped him up so that he gazed into her eyes from the palm of her hand.

'Is over?' he enquired softly.

A legion silt shrieked, leaping at Seteal from the shadows with his scythe raised. With a single look, Seteal sent the creature flailing through the air and into the side of a building. 'I believe it is,' she replied.

'Is very tired,' Seeol said weakly. 'I think I'm going to die now.' He rested his beak on Seteal's thumb.

'Not today, Seeol.' She glanced over her shoulder and the rain ceased to fall, the clouds immediately drifting apart. 'I will protect you.'

'Is just a bird,' Seeol uttered sorrowfully. 'Just let me die.'

'Yes,' Seteal murmured. 'For some of us, I suppose that it is for the best if we do.'

*

By evening, Beldin was soaked in blood. Scarcely a soul moved. The silt legion and armies of New World had all but annihilated each other. For now, there would be rest from warfare, as it would take time for silt reinforcements to arrive. The Elglair would find themselves at a loss for direction, their leader having been killed in battle.

The clouds had drifted away hours earlier, but a few whisps lurked around dark corners, where they waited for prey to stagger unwittingly into their lairs. On the streets below, the unlikely gathering of a demon, an angel, and a condemned rei darted back and forth along the silent streets in their effort to bypass the few remaining soldiers and escape the city in one piece. As they moved away from a city square of carnage, they could not have known that they were passing very close to the corpse of the War Elder responsible for such destruction. His body was food for insects.

A small grey moth flew on the gentle breeze. It'd been unable to come out of hiding earlier, what with all the rain, but now on delicate wings it entered into the night. The moth fluttered and danced on the cold breeze. It was one of Maker's simpler creations and couldn't have known of the darkness that swam through the night behind it.

For a moment, the moth landed on a corpse already swarming with insects. Its powerful legs propelled it across the surface, but suddenly they stopped working, the moth having become fixed in place. It struggled to no avail to remove its feet as the black mist sank into its body and snaked down its legs. The corpse's flesh churned. The moth's legs sank deeper into the dead skin, its colouration fading to black as it went.

As the moth's body fused with dead human flesh, incomprehensible fragmented thoughts entered its puny mind. The stupid child had stuck him with a dagger: the foolish girl. Thousands of moths surged through the night to join their almost entirely consumed kin on the surface of Far-a-mael's body. The whisp dragged the insects beneath the surface, leaving only the vague impression of wings imprinted on the skin where they'd previously stood.

A horde of moths latched onto the corpse and began tearing at the repugnant remains, scratching and burrowing their way through rank decay. Had there been any witnesses, none could've made out the human body beneath the churning mass of blackening moths of varying shapes and sizes. One after the other they disappeared, sinking into a human body as it was slowly revealed. The final moths formed a simple black robe identical to the one the man had been wearing before his death.

Far-a-mael opened his eyes and swallowed a breath of air. There was a strange fluttering in his chest, but the sensation vanished almost immediately. Standing slowly, he took in his surroundings. It was night.

'The battle,' he gasped, putting a hand over his stomach where Seteal had stabbed him. The wound was gone. Had he been resurrected yet again? Far-a-mael looked at his clear pale hands and flexed his arms. He touched his face and his heartbeat fluttered excitedly. The rot was gone. So any resurrection he'd endured couldn't have come through the hands of a demon. His allergy would've remained.

Far-a-mael strode across the square feeling healthier with every step. He stopped beneath the bright light of the moon, certain he'd felt movement against his arm. Pulling back his sleeve, Far-a-mael lifted his hand and watched a moth that'd landed on his finger moving its wings slowly in and out. It squirmed against Far-a-mael's flesh, forcing others to make way for it, the patterns of their wings sliding this way and that. The moth joined the mass, leaving Far-a-mael to stare at nothing more than the strange patterns indicative of its placement.

'How interesting.' Far-a-mael turned around slowly, his mouth twisting into a wicked smile. He threw out his arm and watched half of it explode into a great ball of moths. At once he saw through a hundred compound eyes and felt the world's vibrations through his antennae. He summoned them back and as one they swarmed together to reform his arm. Laughing madly, Far-a-mael tensed his legs and leapt into the air. His body erupted into a great cloud that spewed away on the cold breeze beneath the white light of the moon.

Revelation 1

7. Behold, She cometh with black clouds, and every eye shall see Her, and he also who anchored Her, and all kindreds of the earth shall wail because of Her. Even so, Amen.

Scriptures of the Holy Tome

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Cael McIntosh is the author of The Inner Circle trilogy and is currently working on several other projects. Having been born and raised as a Jehovah's Witness, only to leave the faith in his early twenties, he has developed a unique perspective on religion and its implications. From that, along with other life experiences, he finds inspiration for his tales. It is his greatest hope that his works will inspire people to analyze and question their beliefs from an unbiased perspective.
