by Ginn Hale
While the groundsmen adjusted the bales of hay for the next race, Kiram thought he heard someone calling his name. He searched the crowd and caught sight of Alizadeh approaching. Rafie was nowhere to be seen.
Alizadeh glanced to where the riders were still gathering at the starting line and then ducked under the barricade and quickly strode to where Kiram sat atop Firaj. Alizadeh offered Firaj a sniff of his hand and the gelding seemed won over, allowing Alizadeh to stroke his shoulder and neck.
“Is Rafie all right?” Kiram asked.
“He’s fine. He just stayed back at the camp.” Alizadeh scratched a little harder as Firaj leaned into him. “One of the boys fell and hurt his arm. The ground is really slick right now.”
“I know.” At the thought of a rider falling, the sick dread in Kiram’s stomach returned. He focused on Alizadeh instead. “Did you figure out what happened last night?”
“I have an idea,” Alizadeh said. His expression turned grim and Kiram needed suddenly to reassure him that he and the Bahiim weren’t in danger—or if they were that they hadn’t been attacked the night before.
“I think I know what happened.” Kiram leaned down, lowering his voice. “It wasn’t the man on the hill who disrupted your wards. Javier was looking for me and he opened the white hell.”
Alizadeh gave him an amused, disbelieving look. “And you think that your duke’s Cadeleonian hell affected the Bahiim wards?”
“Yes,”Kiram insisted, annoyed by Alizadeh’s apparent dismissal of his theory. A horn sounded as the riders of the second race were called to the starting line. “I’ll explain when I’m finished here.”
“Yes, I’d be interested to hear the finer points of your argument.” Alizadeh cast his gaze out over the racecourse, as if he’d just noticed it. “So, races today? Anyone I should cheer for?”
“Javier. He’s there on the white stallion.”
“He does cut a fine figure,” Alizadeh remarked.
Kiram felt his cheeks warm slightly. “He has a good chance of taking first place in the next two races.”
“Well, I’ll cheer for him as loudly as I can. Is there somewhere in particular that I should stand?”
“Anywhere as long as you keep behind the rope barricade. It’s my job to keep people back, you know.”
“In that case I’ll slink away as quickly as I can.” Alizadeh quickly slipped back behind the rope barricade. Kiram watched him go, wondering what it would take to convince Alizadeh to take his side and help him stay at the academy. Then the loud clang of the starting bell captured all Kiram’s attention.
Javier and Hierro Fueres took the lead immediately. But even before the second lap Kiram could see Hierro Fueres’ mount tiring. The Helio twins steadily gained ground. One of them edged into third place and the other fell in just behind his twin in fourth.
Lunaluz cleared the last stone wall, but Hierro Fueres’ horse shied from the jump and the Helio twins surged ahead. The first of them cleared the wall but the second didn’t.
A sick horror flooded Kiram as both rider and horse crashed down, half across the wall half over it. The horse let out a wrenching scream and the Helio twin’s body flipped through the air and then smacked into the muddy ground. Two men in Sagrada colors rushed past the barricade and pulled him up to his feet. He hung between them, sobbing as they dragged him back off the field.
Hierro Fueres turned his mount aside and jumped the wall a little to the left of the convulsing horse. The five other riders followed his example.
The fallen horse thrashed in a revolting, spastic manner. Its hindquarters collapsed over the wall. The horse tried to stand but its legs splayed out, buckling like broken sticks. Its head twisted at a wrong angle and still it cried out. Firaj folded his ears back and shivered in seeming sympathy.
The surrounding crowd went silent and motionless as the horse’s cries carried over the course. Kiram felt like he might vomit but he forced his revulsion back. He couldn’t believe that the horse was still alive, or that the race was still going on.
Then suddenly Javier wheeled Lunaluz around. He cut across the field, riding back to where the horse lay, thrashing and crying. Lunaluz balked as they drew near, shaking his head and whinnying. Javier swung down from his saddle and ran to the fallen beast.
Terror coursed through Kiram as the horse flailed, nearly striking Javier with its hoof. Riders raced past Kiram, crossing the finish line, but Kiram hardly noticed them. He stared at Javier and the pathetic, trembling ruin of a beautiful roan stallion.
A tiny flicker sparked up between Javier’s hands and then it spread into a luminous glow. Javier held his hands out, basking the horse in the white light and the horse quieted. It stared at Javier, shudders still passing through its body but it made no noise. Javier moved closer, kneeling beside the animal’s head.
Javier lowered his face and whispered something to the horse. Then the soft light between his hands crackled like lightning and a blinding bolt shot straight down through the horse’s head.
The horse went entirely limp, its head falling into the mud and its legs drooping like hot taffy. Javier returned to Lunaluz and stood for a long moment, stroking the stallion’s neck. Then he rode back to the starting line, clearly forfeiting.
Neither of the Helio twins took their places for the third race, and Kiram was shocked that the war masters hadn’t canceled the final race. The remaining riders were called to their places and the bell rang.
The start was slower than either of the two before and the cheers from the crowd were thin and subdued at first. But after the second lap, as Javier and Hierro Fueres rode neck and neck, voices rose and groups of men chanted in booming voices. Elezar managed to shout over everyone, howling out Javier’s name and taunting Hierro Fueres.
Kiram was silent, just watching and dreading the moment Lunaluz approached the last stone wall. He didn’t want to look and at the same time he couldn’t pull his gaze away. A red smear colored the gray stones. He tried to convince himself that it was just mud.
Then Lunaluz leapt and soared over the wall. Javier came charging towards the finish line. His expression was set in that arrogant smile, as it often was in duels. But for an instant he glanced to Kiram and Kiram saw his entire countenance slip like a mask. He looked overwhelmed with sorrow. Then he glanced away and his satisfied smirk returned.
He and Lunaluz tore through the ribbons of the finish line a full length ahead of Hierro Fuere. The last five riders came through the line in quick succession. Kiram watched them, feeling both numb and raw. He wanted to be able to roar Javier’s name in triumph, but he couldn’t stop thinking of the terrible heavy thud of the roan stallion’s body breaking over that stone wall and how little it seemed to have impacted anyone else. It disturbed him that a living creature could have suffered so terribly so recently and that the crowd of Cadeleonians would already be cheering and hooting.
Prince Sevanyo presented medals to the winning riders. Javier took a silver and a gold with a fixed smile. Hierro Fueres accepted his gold and two silvers with a grin that reminded Kiram a little of Fedeles in the grip of near madness. Cocuyo Helio received his gold, and a bronze medal in his brother’s stead. He managed a thin smile for the prince. The remaining medals, two bronzes, were presented to a Yillar student who Kiram didn’t know, but he wore a bright orange ribbon on his sleeve.
Kiram suddenly wondered what it took for a Cadeleonian to admit weakness or to express open sorrow. Did they always force a confident smile and charge thoughtlessly ahead like brave soldiers? Maybe that’s what made them such great warriors, but also such terrible intellectuals.
“Are you needed for anything else?” Alizadeh once again ducked under the rope barricade and stood beside Firaj. He wasn’t smiling and Kiram found it relieving to know that at least he hadn’t forgotten the fallen horse.
“No,” Kiram said. “Master Ignacio just signaled our dismissal. One of the grooms is already on his way to take Firaj back to the stables. After that
I’m free until sixth bell.”
“Good.” Alizadeh said nothing more as the groom drew closer, but the tension that Kiram had noticed the first day he’d seen Alizadeh had returned to his bearing. He glanced up at the blue jays circling overhead. Kiram stroked Firaj’s jaw for a few moments before handing his reins over to a young groom. The entire time Alizadeh’s disquiet seemed to increase.
Alizadeh stepped closer to Kiram. “Do you know what it is that your friend Javier did to that fallen horse?”
“He opened the white hell and…killed it…” Kiram glanced quickly to the bloodstained wall and then back to Alizadeh. “He had to, it was suffering.”
“I have no doubt that it was a merciful killing. That is not what concerns me,” Alizadeh said. His gaze flickered to the throng of Hellions surrounding Javier and he lowered his voice to a whisper. “It wasn’t a hell he opened. That was a shajdi. The same one that opened this morning.”
“That’s what I was trying to tell you before the race,” Kiram said. “I think that the white hell is actually a shajdi.”
“This changes things,” Alizadeh said. He turned his attention back to Kiram. “We have to go now.”
Alizadeh caught his hand in a tight grip.
“But I haven’t gotten a chance to talk to Javier or Nestor,” Kiram protested. “I should at least tell them where I’m going.”
“I’m sorry Kiram, but we do not have time to argue. Not now and not here.” Alizadeh hissed a word that Kiram didn’t recognize. Suddenly a throbbing sensation shot through Kiram’s arm, as if he’d been stung by a bee. Kiram tried to pull his arm back from Alizadeh but a wave of numb surged through him. He stepped forward in a daze.
Kiram was aware that he walked beside Alizadeh. His body moved like some mechanism, striding ahead regardless of Kiram’s will to stop. He recognized banners and bright tents as he passed them. He even heard Javier call his name. But sounds, sights and sensations came to him as if he were in the midst of another man’s dream—he marched onward, little more than a mute puppet in Alizadeh’s grip.
Soon he and Alizadeh reached the Irabiim camp. Horses were already hitched to wagons. Only embers and thin trails of smoke remained from the cooking fires.
They were leaving.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Kiram resisted with all his will. He concentrated on flexing the muscles of his legs and digging his heels into the wet ground. Focusing all his strength, he managed to slow the strides of his body to clumsy stumbling steps.
“You willful Kir-Zakis never make it easy, do you?” Alizadeh grumbled as he dragged Kiram forward into the Irabiim camp. Irabiim women watched them with curious expressions. Young men looked away as Kiram staggered past. Rafie met them a few feet from the wagon where they had slept the night before. He glanced briefly between Alizadeh and Kiram and then scowled.
“Kiram, you swore you wouldn’t try to run away,” Rafie said.
“He didn’t,” Alizadeh replied. “At least he hasn’t yet.”
“Then why are you’re holding him in a thrall?”
“Bait to trap for a certain duke,” Alizadeh replied. Kiram had expected a different answer and clearly so had Rafie.
“What do you want with the Cadeleonian duke?”
“He opened the shajdi this morning.” Alizadeh didn’t release his grip on Kiram’s wrist as he sagged back against the wall of the wagon. Sweat beaded his brow.
“That’s not possible, is it?” Rafie asked and then he lowered his voice to a whisper. “You told me yourself that the craft of forging portals was locked away by the Bahiim.”
“It was and it remains so.” Alizadeh’s voice was equally low. “Somehow Calixto Tornesal discovered the secret, found a sacrifice, and forged a portal. That’s what the Tornesal’s white hell is.”
“So that’s what the man on the hill is after,” Rafie said quietly. “Not just a dukedom but the power of a shajdi as well.”
Alizadeh nodded. “We can’t allow a shajdi to fall into the hands of the Cadeleonian church, especially not the royal bishop.”
Hope surged in Kiram’s heart. Maybe Alizadeh would intercede on Javier’s behalf after all.
“Hopefully the duke is young enough that his link with the shajdi is weak and I’ll be able to break it,” Alizadeh said.
Hope turned to horror. The white hell—the shajdi that powered it—was all that protected Javier from the curse. If Alizadeh broke that then Javier would die just as his mother and father had.
Kiram concentrated on jerking his arm back from Alizadeh’s grasp. He felt his forearm flex. A shudder passed through Alizadeh.
“Something wrong?” Rafie asked Alizadeh.
“Your nephew’s not any easier to enthrall than you were when we were in Hidras,” Alizadeh said to Rafie.
“We’re a stubborn family.” Rafie glanced to Kiram. “You shouldn’t fight Alizadeh. He’s doing what’s right.”
“N…no.” Kiram’s lips felt like lead slabs as he struggled to form words that eventually emerged as a groan. “You’ll…kill…Javier.”
“Should I fetch Nakiesh or Liahn?” Rafie asked.
“No...” Alizadeh frowned out at the distant groups of Irabiim. “They really might kill the duke. It would be the easiest way to close the portal and the Irabiim could flee to other lands before the Cadeleonians mounted a reprisal. No, we need to keep this among ourselves.”
“So, what can I do?” Rafie asked.
“A draught to put your nephew to sleep would help me greatly.” Alizadeh looked out past Kiram. “I don’t think I’m going to have much time to prepare before the duke arrives and I’m going to need my strength.”
“I’ll mix a few drams of duera. That should take Kiram off your hands.”
“Thank you, my dear.” Alizadeh smiled and Rafie leaned close to kiss his cheek.
“Don’t scowl like that, Kiram,” Rafie said gently. “This is for the best, and honestly you look like you could use the sleep.” Then Rafie turned and bounded into the wagon.
Kiram struggled to pull out of Alizadeh’s grasp. He didn’t have much time if he was going to make his escape. Alizadeh’s grip tightened around his wrist and his fingers suddenly felt like brands of fire.
Be calm, Kiram. I will not harm you or your young duke. Alizadeh’s voice filtered through Kiram’s thoughts.
Yes, you will! Kiram could only think the words. He trembled with the frustration at his numb, mute body. He wanted to scream at Alizadeh. You’ll strip Javier of the only protection he has against the curse and he’ll die. He’ll die in agony!
“If he no longer possesses the white hell then the man on the hill may not bother to maintain the curse,” Alizadeh answered though Kiram had said nothing aloud.
You don’t believe that. Kiram concentrated on Alizadeh, and the burning sensation of Alizadeh’ grasp seemed to roll up from his arm to engulf his entire body. He had felt something like this, when Javier had opened the white hell for him. Javier’s presence in his mind had been hot as well, but sensual and inviting. Alizadeh was a scouring flame, searing into Kiram’s thoughts.
Despite the discomfort, Kiram pushed his consciousness into the scorching presence and thought hard.
I can tell from your expression. You know you’re condemning Javier. You’re condemning him the same way that Nazario Sagrada condemned innocent Haldiim to their deaths. You’re as bad as him.
“Perhaps, but Kiram,” Alizadeh looked suddenly deeply tired and Kiram was glad to have affected him, “there is more at stake here than one man’s life. A shajdi is not some plaything. It is a locus where all death becomes life. It is power, pure and formless. The very soul of creation. When a shajdi comes under the dominion of humanity it changes. Over time it takes form, becoming what they will it to be. The shajdi that your friend possesses is probably already deeply corrupted by the generations of Tornesals. It is becoming the hell they have imagined it to be. If it remains in your friend’s control it will bring forth the devils
of his religion. He will give them form and the shajdi will give them life. They will enter our world. They will be a plague upon all living things. That must not happen. Do you understand?”
Kiram did understand, but he still couldn’t accept the sacrifice of Javier’s life.
Alizadeh seemed to see Kiram’s resistance. His green eyes narrowed in anger.
“Do you know why King Nazario Sagrada tortured and murdered so many Haldiim, Kiram?” Alizadeh didn’t wait for Kiram’s response. “He and his bishops wanted to possess a shajdi. Had they succeeded in their quest they would have brought the tortures of the Cadeleonian church out into this world and conquered all nations. Countless Bahiim died to keep that from happening. We endured his tortures and we destroyed our own writings. At the very last we locked the knowledge away, depriving even our own people of the shajdi’s healing powers rather than allowing them to become perverted. All those deaths, all that sacrifice can’t have been for nothing. This shajdi must not become a Cadeleonian hell.”
Kiram thought: But you’re condemning Javier for something that he hasn’t done. You don’t know how he sees the white hell. I do. It isn’t full of devils. It’s light and beautiful. I saw a Bahiim tree there and words but nothing else. Javier isn’t creating some terrible Cadeleonian hell with the shajdi. It’s a refuge for him. If anything, that’s what he’ll make it into. A place of peace. Please, Alizadeh, you have to believe me.
For the first time Alizadeh looked uncertain.
“You have been inside the shajdi?”
Yes, Javier shielded me while I read a script that could only be seen in the shajdi’s light.
Alizadeh nodded, apparently familiar with such script. Again, the burning sensation seemed to surge through Kiram’s body. Unwillingly, Kiram’s memory of that afternoon arose. Kiram felt Alizadeh searching through them as one might leaf through a book. Kiram struggled to escape Alizadeh’s grasp before the sensations of that day—the feel and taste of Javier’s body—rushed over him again. His resistance made no impact. In seconds, Kiram basked in the light of the white hell and read Calixto’s words. Then he felt Javier’s warm lips and insistent tongue and flushed with embarrassment, knowing that Alizadeh could see his pleasure in the sensations.