Lord of the White Hell Book One

by Ginn Hale

  “Up to the threshold.” Javier smirked. “He didn’t come any further, but he didn’t need to. As soon as he saw your uncle redressing your arm he told me not to bother waking you.”

  Kiram glanced down at his forearm and for the first time noticed that the bandages had been changed. Only a few spots of blood colored the white cloth. “It doesn’t look that bad.”

  “It looked bad enough this afternoon.” Javier crossed his arms over his chest. “You were white as clay and cold.”

  “I feel fine now.”

  “You boys are so resilient,” Alizadeh, who had drifted back toward the fire, commented. “I envy your youth.”

  Kiram almost laughed at Alizadeh envying anyone’s youth. The man hardly looked older than Javier in this flickering firelight.

  “Finish your bitters,” Rafie said.

  Kiram obeyed his uncle, then slowly sank back into the bed. The warmth of the fire and the soft blankets engulfed him. Kiram closed his eyes, feeling both relaxed and satisfied. He’d convinced Alizadeh to take Javier’s side. He would be staying at the academy. Relief welled through him like an opiate and he drifted.

  “I know that these circumstances must seem terrible.” Javier’s voice was soft and seemed distant. Kiram thought he must have been talking to Rafie or Alizadeh. “But I assure you that Kiram is safe here. I give you my word that I will devote all my resources to his protection if you just allow him to remain at the Sagrada Academy.”

  Kiram opened his eyes. He couldn’t see Javier’s face but looking over his shoulder he glimpsed Rafie’s serious expression. Sitting in a chair, Alizadeh bowed his head over a small talisman in his hand. He mouthed soft words but made no sound. He seemed unaware of the rest of them.

  Kiram expected Rafie to inform Javier that he had already decided that Kiram would be staying.

  Instead Rafie leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “Why do you want him to stay so badly?”

  “He…” Javier went quiet and when he did speak again his voice was so hushed that Kiram had to strain to hear him. “He’s important to me.”

  Kiram watched as Rafie studied Javier in silence. Slowly, Rafie’s harsh expression softened to sadness. “It won’t be easy for either of you, you know.”

  “I’m not afraid of difficulty,” Javier replied.

  “Of course you’re not.” A brief scowl flickered across Rafie’s face but then he sighed. “Alizadeh and I will be leaving first thing in the morning, but Kiram will remain here in your care.”

  Kiram saw the tension drop from Javier’s shoulders. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Wait a year and see if you still want to thank me.” Rafie frowned over Javier’s shoulder to Kiram. “I may be doing you less of a favor than you think.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The next morning Rafie and Alizadeh woke Kiram just after dawn. They remained only long enough to wish Kiram good luck and to admire the gold jupon that Kiram’s mother had sent. Kiram slipped it over his clothes. It hung a little loosely, having been fitted to wear over thick leather armor. Still, Rafie looked admiring. “I’ll tell her that you looked handsome in it.”

  Alizadeh blessed Kiram’s lotus medallion and warned him to beware of blue jays and befriend any crows he met. Despite the previous days of arguments, Kiram felt a pang of sadness when Rafie released him from a farewell embrace.

  “Take care,” Rafie told him.

  “Travel safe,” Kiram replied.

  Javier had just wandered down stairs into the entry hall, still looking as if he were half-asleep. His black hair tangled around his face and his expression was soft.

  Alizadeh waved to Javier and said, “We will meet again.”

  Javier simply nodded. Then Rafie and Alizadeh quietly slipped out the door leaving Javier and Kiram alone in the entryway.

  “Hungry?” Javier asked.

  Kiram nodded.

  “Well, let’s see what we can scare up.” Javier started for the dining room. Kiram walked alongside him. “You feel up to today?” Javier asked.

  The question worried Kiram slightly. The last day of the tournament was reserved for third year formal dueling, which meant full armor and squires, hence Kiram’s new jupon. He would be out with Javier, carrying his weapons and helping him with his armor.

  Kiram knew enough of Cadeleonian culture now to understand that it meant a great deal to stand beside another man in battle. He wanted to be the one beside Javier.

  “I’ll be fine,” Kiram said and he was rewarded with a brilliant smile from Javier.

  “We’ll be unbeatable,” Javier said.

  Kiram grinned. He had no doubt of Javier’s prowess and having won his uncle and Alizadeh over, Kiram’s sense of his own abilities soared. That pride buoyed him through the morning.

  Not even Master Ignacio’s scowl could perturb him. He felt almost comfortable among his fellow schoolmates listening to the war master’s stern lecture and smelling the horses all around them.

  As they rode to the gold pavilion Kiram recaptured the sense of excitement that he’d felt the first day of the tournament. He smiled at the gathered crowds and bright banners. The warm sun shining over the clear blue sky seemed to reflect his happiness.

  “You’re not dosed with more duera, are you?” Nestor asked him.

  Kiram laughed, which he knew did nothing to alter Nestor’s impression.

  “My uncle has gone home. He decided to let me stay at the academy,” Kiram told him.

  Nestor grinned like a mad man. “That’s fabulous! You’re staying! Javier must be thrilled.”

  “Why do you say that?” Kiram couldn’t keep from stealing a glance ahead to where Javier rode beside Elezar. Gazing at his lean form the memory of the feel of Javier’s skin beneath his hands and the taste of his skin rushed over him.

  Nestor shot Kiram a puzzled look as if he was reassessing Kiram’s intelligence. “He’s terribly fond of you. Haven’t you noticed?”

  Kiram used the excuse of scratching Firaj’s cheek to look away from Nestor. Was he and Javier’s relationship really that obvious?

  “He takes his responsibility seriously.”

  “Oh, now you’re just being coy.” Nestor pushed up his spectacles to itch the thin scratch that ran across the bridge of his nose. “Seriously, Kiram. He likes you. You’re smart and different from most of the men at the academy. Elezar aside, Javier doesn’t give a crap about most of them but he goes out of his way for you. He never would have spent so much time wandering around the fairgrounds with you half out of your brain otherwise. You’re definitely his friend. I think he may be a little fond of me as well, you know, by association.”

  “I’m sure he is.”

  “Riossa says that only an ass wouldn’t like me.” His pale cheeks turned slightly pink. “But you know she’s a bit biased.”

  “Nestor, you charmer.” Kiram smiled at Nestor’s flushed pride.

  “She can draw horses pretty well.” Nestor gave Kiram a sly look. “And she kisses really well.”

  “But the real question is, are you any good at kissing?” Kiram expected Nestor to be flustered by the question but instead he beamed.

  “I’m marvelous!” Nestor sounded so exultant that Kiram laughed. Nestor laughed along with him.

  At the pavilion grooms took the horses. Students from both the Yillar and Sagrada Academy gathered in the center of the pavilion. Friends, admirers, family members, and countless onlookers cheered and shouted at them from the surrounding stands. Flowers and ribbons fell in showers. Occasionally perfumed favors and love notes drifted down.

  A yellow kerchief pelted Nestor’s head. Both he and Kiram glanced up to see Riossa and her family sitting in the second tier of the stands. Nestor waved to her broadly and Riossa shyly returned his gesture. An older man standing just behind Riossa scowled at him, but Nestor seemed utterly oblivious to his presence.

  Before Kiram could comment, Master Ignacio called them to order. The upperclassmen who had been elimin
ated from the dueling and their underclassmen were sent into the stands to join their families and cheer their classmates.

  Kiram bid Nestor a quick farewell, as he and his upperclassman Atreau made for the crowded boxed seats in the third tier of the stands. The Yillar students, too, were divided and the majority sent to cheer and watch while he, Javier and the other combatants retreated to the lowest stands to dress. Grooms handed out bundles of leather armor to the underclassmen, while teams of housemen brought out the heavier metal armor that the upperclassmen would wear.

  “Look here, Javier.” Elezar held up his breastplate. A red enamel bull reared across its surface. “I just got it re-enameled so try not to scratch it up while you’re clinging to it and begging for mercy!”

  Javier hefted up his black enameled groin piece in response. “Just so you know what to kiss when you want me to stop beating your ass.”

  Kiram dressed in his own armor quickly. He winced as he laced a leather guard over his injured forearm. Then, presented with the sight of Javier’s bare back, Kiram utterly forgot his discomfort. Kiram touched his shoulder, feeling the smooth warm skin.

  Javier gave him a brief, winning smile and then handed Kiram his chest plate. Kiram expected the chill of the metal but not the sheer weight of it.

  “Make sure the buckles are tight. It can’t slip while I’m out there.” Javier’s fingers briefly brushed over Kiram’s hand. Then he dropped his hand and picked up his leather doublet.

  “Not to worry,” Kiram told him. “I’ve had lots of practice getting girths good and tight. I could probably even warm your bit if you had one.”

  Javier pulled the doublet over his head and then turned to allow Kiram to lace up the leather guard that protected his throat.

  After that, the successive layers of Javier’s leather armor, chainmail, and enameled plate armor monopolized Kiram’s attention.

  While Kiram knelt, adjusting the fit of Javier’s greaves to his long shins, Scholar Donamillo and Holy Father Habalan arrived with muerate poison. Javier casually held his left hand out to the plump holy father. Scholar Donamillo opened the glass vial of black poison as Holy Father Habalan dragged his silver blade across Javier’s wrist. Kiram felt Javier’s muscles tense when the blade sliced into his flesh but his expression remained unconcerned.

  Kiram bowed his head to keep the holy father from seeing his contemptuous sneer. Even so he smelled the tang of the meurate and felt a shudder pass through Javier as it entered his bloodstream.

  “Kiram.” Scholar Donamillo handed Kiram a roll of clean bandage. “Bind the wound, but not too tightly.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Scholar Donamillo?” Javier’s voice was low. “Do you know how Enevir Helio is this morning? I’d heard that his leg was broken.”

  Kiram reflexively glanced up into the stands where the Helio box stood, conspicuously empty.

  “His leg is the worst of his injuries,” Scholar Donamillo replied. “But he’s a strong young man and I expect that he will recover to a great extent within the next few months. Shall I give him your regards?”

  Javier shook his head. The Helios were not Hellions, and therefore did not merit much interest. “I was just curious.”

  “Yes. Well then. Good luck to both of you.” Scholar Donamillo offered Kiram a smile. Kiram appreciated the words, but wished that they had not come with a dose of acrid black poison. He couldn’t quite bring himself to thank the scholar. Javier, too, remained silent.

  Holy Father Habalan and Scholar Donamillo departed as unobtrusively as they had arrived. Kiram wrapped Javier’s wrist. His skin felt icy now. Javier’s mouth was pale and he drew his breath with slow concentration.

  Kiram laced Javier’s leather gauntlet over the bandage, his own arm aching in sympathy. Then he helped work Javier’s metal gauntlet up over both. Javier caught his hand briefly in a cold, steel grip. His expression was so drawn that Kiram feared he might collapse. Then Javier released his tight grip. He took up his helmet and pulled it on, hiding his face.

  Kiram could hardly make out his dark eyes through the slits of his visor. He was a long expanse of steel and black enamel, like some strange union of mechanism and man.

  Most of the other Sagrada students were already armored and standing ready. With the added bulk of enameled steel and chainmail Elezar’s large body had transformed into an immense scarlet fortress. Unlike Javier, Elezar shifted, rolling his shoulders and moving his armor as if its weight meant nothing.

  “Kiram, you better get your jupon on.” Javier’s low voice sounded almost hollow from within the armor.

  “Sorry.” Kiram quickly pulled the jupon over his head and smoothed the yellow silk out over his byrnie. The Tornesal black sun over his chest matched the one enameled across Javier’s breastplate perfectly. He hefted up Javier’s long sword and his shield the way the other underclassmen held their upperclassmen’s weapons.

  High in the stands, trumpeters blew out a sharp melody, announcing Prince Sevanyo. By the time the notes stilled, the entire pavilion had gone quiet. In the shaded comfort of his box seat, Sevanyo rose and raised a hand. The large jewels adorning his fingers flashed. “Chosen sons of Cadeleon’s great academies, stand before me!”

  Kiram followed Javier onto the fighting ground. He held his head up high and looked as proud and confident as he could, though, in truth he was concerned for Javier. Between the muerate and the weight of all this armor Kiram wasn’t sure how well Javier would fare. His precise and unusually careful motions were exactly the same as when Kiram had discovered him lying, nearly poisoned to death, in the chapel garden.

  In comparison, Elezar seemed comfortable and eager. And across the grounds, Hierro Fueres stood like a golden monument, his breastplate and helmet decorated with white swan motifs. Kiram recognized his squire’s auburn hair and plain face. Ariz Plunado walked with the blank expression of a mannequin, though for a moment Kiram thought he might have caught the flicker of a scowl as the young man caught sight of him. Clearly he had not forgotten their duel.

  Once they’d taken their places, Prince Sevanyo continued, “Though you gather today to test your strength against one another, never forget that you are sons of one nation and brothers in arms. Any man you stand against here today you may proudly stand beside tomorrow. Fight with honor and pride, blessed sons of Cadeleon.”

  With that the prince returned to his seat and the combatants were assigned their dueling rings. Javier’s first opponent was a Yillar student whose squire kept peering at Kiram as if he’d never seen a Haldiim before. Javier only took his short sword, leaving both his long blade and his shield with Kiram.

  “They’re too heavy just now,” Javier whispered when Kiram offered them.

  Javier moved with none of his normal grace. His opponent scored several hard strikes against him and twice Javier barely managed to block fatal blows. This emboldened the Yillar student.

  “How’d you even get this far, Rauma? Bribed your opponents?” The Yillar student laughed. His squire looked amused.

  Kiram wanted to hurl Javier’s shield at the man, but all he could do was watch the Yillar student jab a loose and lazy thrust for Javier’s heart. Javier blocked the blow with a resounding crash of steel and then suddenly charged. Taken off guard, the Yillar student retreated but not quickly enough. Javier drove his blade up with such force that the Yillar student’s visor snapped from its hinge. With a second fast strike Javier knocked the Yillar student to the ground and pounced on top of him. Javier held his blade just inches above the other man’s exposed face. The Yillar student gaped at Javier, white faced with shock.

  As the judge raised a blue flag signifying the first Sagrada victory, cheers and hoots rose from the stands. The Yillar student stalked from the ring and Kiram rushed past him to Javier’s side. Javier lifted his visor. Sweat beaded his face but only a little color had returned to his cheeks.

  “I’m fine,” Javier said before Kiram could ask. “But it’s a damn oven in this armor a
nd the sun doesn’t look like it’s going to let up.”

  He was right. The sun had just risen to the open ceiling of the pavilion and was well below its zenith, but already temperatures were rising inside. In the lower stands, men and women fanned themselves and boys in red jackets hawked cups of cider.

  “Get me some water before my next duel,” Javier said.

  Kiram wove through the circles of dueling students. Dust and wood shavings hung in the air, as did the pungent smell of sweat. Elezar’s loud roar carried over even the noise of the crowd and the grunts and curses of other, closer combatants. Kiram looked over his shoulder just in time to see Elezar hurl his opponent from the dueling ring.

  For a moment, Kiram was too stunned by the sight to do more than stare. He’d witnessed demonstrations of Elezar’s strength during practice, but Kiram had never seen Elezar fighting with unrestrained force. His opponent lay on the ground like a broken toy. Even the judge seemed stunned as he raised the blue Sagrada flag.

  Kiram prayed that Javier wouldn’t have to fight Elezar next. He simply was not strong enough. He raced back to Javier’s side with a skin of cool water. Javier drank a little but then his next opponent arrived. Again, Javier went without his shield and only wielded a short sword.

  But where he had previously stood still, Javier now prowled. He circled his new opponent slowly and then lunged in with brilliant speed to score a strike before bounding back out of reach. Light flared off the shining surface of his silver armor. Javier took a hit across his shoulder, but landed his own strike directly across the enamel emblem over his opponent’s heart. The enamel shattered and the judge again raised the blue flag again.

  Kiram distinctly recognized Fedeles’ joyous crow rising over the cheers and boos from the stands. Javier shoved his visor back and Kiram hurried forward with the water skin. Javier drank, dropped the empty water skin back into Kiram’s hands, and closed his eyes.

  “Javier?” Kiram asked.