by Ginn Hale
Kiram didn’t even bother to dispute being called heathen; he’d sat through far too many of the holy father’s history lectures to bother. Though, he would have liked to point out that he wasn’t a Bahiim and therefore asking him to sum up the ancient and esoteric theology of his entire race was much like asking a horse to explain the history of mounted warfare. But he knew such a response would only be taken for insolence. So instead he offered them the simple tenet that his grandmother had taught him and which he truly believed.
“All life is sacred. Whether it takes the shape of a moth, a man, or a great oak, every life is precious and part of a greater whole, because no matter how different our physical bodies, all our souls arise from and return to the same divine union of the shajdi.” Kiram could see at once that his response did not please Master Ignacio, but Holy Father Habalan smiled and clapped his hands together.
“You see. Every living thing. Flies, worms, mice.” The holy father turned to Master Ignacio. “Very primitive spiritually, hardly better than those Mirogoth animals. There is always the possibility of conversion, of course, but in most cases it’s not worth the effort of trying. Higher purpose is simply beyond most of them.”
Master Ignacio scowled and handed two gold coins over to the holy father, who happily pocketed them.
“Thank you, Kiram.” The holy father patted Kiram’s head as if he were a pet of some kind that could not have possibly understood his insulting words. “That’s all we needed.”
Savage anger flared through Kiram and it took all of his restraint not to simply slap the smug smile off of Holy Father Habalan’s face. He wanted to see Habalan’s expression when he spat in his face and announced that he knew Habalan was the man responsible for the brutal deaths of the Tornesal family.
But he had no proof and no hope of anyone backing him up if he raised his hand against a Cadeleonian holy man. Kiram bowed and quickly left them.
In his rush for the dormitory doors he crashed into Scholar Blasio, causing the young, pallid math instructor to spill the armload of the kindling that he had been carrying. Blasio almost fell as well but Kiram caught him.
“I’m so sorry, sir,” Kiram told him. Then he dropped to the floor, regathering Blasio’s wood.
Blasio knelt beside him, worry showing on his soft features and golden brown eyes.
“Kiram? What’s happened?”
Kiram didn’t want to admit anything but he couldn’t help himself.
“That fat fuck, Habalan—” Kiram began but then shook his head, knowing that his anger was too fresh, too raw to express in anything but a string of obscenities.
Blasio nodded grimly.
“He’s an ugly, old idiot,” Scholar Blasio said quietly. He took the kindling from Kiram and they both stood. “You on the other hand are bright and kind. Don’t give him the satisfaction of taking any of that from you.”
“No sir,” Kiram replied. “I won’t. I’m just angry.”
“Yes, and that’s understandable. I do know how very frustrating he can be. Just be glad you don’t have to take your Sacreday supper at the instructors’ table with him.” Blasio pulled a mock grimace. “On top of it all he farts and tries to blame the stench on the rest of the staff.”
Kiram laughed at that and Blasio smiled.
“Were you on your way to work on your project for the Crown Challenge?” Blasio inquired.
“Yes, sir.”
“I won’t keep you then.” Blasio shifted the kindling in his arms. Kiram noticed that several of the rough branches had scratched the scholar’s cheek and palms. And for the first time, seeing Scholar Blasio’s bare hands, he wondered how little a young scholar was paid.
He didn’t feel he ought to ask, but he made a note to himself for ask his mother to send something special for Blasio with her next package. Perhaps gloves.
Outside the sun already hung low, casting only a few gold beams across the blue shadows of the deep banks of snow. Frost filled the air and Kiram could feel the moisture in his nose and mouth freezing as he drew in each breath. White clouds plumed from his lips as he exhaled.
He ran for his work shed, hoping that vigor would keep the chill away. As he drew close, a loud crash and a clang rang through the still air. Some low, animal growl carried from the shed and then more crashing of metal. It sounded like some beast had gotten into the work shed. Alarm shot through Kiram and he forgot the cold completely.
The door hung open. Kiram rushed in, expecting to find a badger caught up in his tools. Instead, Fedeles pounced out of the dark shadows, swinging an iron pipe like a staff and slammed it into the face of Kiram’s beaten engine.
“No!” Kiram threw himself onto Fedeles.
Fedeles staggered as Kiram collided into him, but then caught himself and shoved Kiram away from him with shocking strength. Kiram fell back against his workbench. Pliers and hammers clattered down with him as he hit the ground. Fedeles spun back to the steam engine. With a howl, he smashed through the delicate valves and then hammered at the secondary tank with a wild abandon. Metal rang and bowed.
Kiram staggered to his feet. Disappointment crashed through him. All that work, destroyed.
“Fedeles! Stop it!” He grabbed one of the hammers that lay at his feet and stepped forward, rage pounding through his body. But he couldn’t bring himself to strike.
Fedeles made a sound as if he were in agony. Tears rolled down his face as he beat at the steam engine. A piston snapped from its mounting and smacked into Fedeles’ side. He stumbled back, gasping and moaning, then dropped to his knees. The pipe fell from his hands as he gripped his own head and wailed. He looked nearly as wretched as Kiram’s mangled engine. Scrapes and cuts marred his hands and arms. Sweat and machine oil coated his face and clothes.
“I’m sorry.” Fedeles sobbed, his mouth gaping as he dragged in a choking breath. “I had to kill it! I had to.”
“I was building it to help you. To free you from the curse.” Kiram’s own breath caught in his throat.
“NO!” Fedeles screamed and Kiram recoiled from the fury in his expression. “It’s killing me! Eating me from the inside out. Crawling through my guts and laughing in my head. He put it inside me because he couldn’t get it into Javier. He—” Suddenly Fedeles went silent and his face drained of all color. Terror contorted his features as he looked down to where his bloody hands rested on the dirt floor.
“I wasn’t telling,” he whimpered. “I wasn’t telling. Please don’t hurt him, please…”
A shudder passed through Fedeles’ body. Then Kiram saw the shadow. It spread from the dark hollows between Fedeles’ splayed fingers and crept out from beneath his folded legs. More and more of it rolled out from Fedeles, moving like a spill of oil, pouring towards Kiram. Prickles of pain bit into Kiram’s flesh as the shadow slithered closer.
“Run!” Fedeles shouted.
Kiram sprinted out of the work shed and a wave of darkness followed him.
Chapter Three
Kiram ran hard and the curse rushed after him. He felt its pursuit, like hot breath and sharp teeth snapping at his back. Something sliced through his pant leg and slashed open his calf. The pain flooded him with an animal desperation and his body responded with a rush of speed.
In the back of his mind he knew he should return to the security of the dormitory but the writhing black mass of the curse spread between him and the school, so Kiram wasn’t going to turn around.
He abandoned the thought of reaching any destination; nowhere could be safe. All that mattered was escape. He had to keep moving. His muscles burned and his lungs ached as he threw himself ahead too fast to even see where he was going.
Flows of snow dragged at him. He fought through them. He tore across the grounds and raced through the orchard. Twilight shadows engulfed him as he crossed the bridge and sprinted between rows of bare apple trees.
Sweat soaked his shirt. His rapid breath pumped out like steam from one of his engines. At some point he lost the orchard path and found himself stu
mbling through deeper drifts of snow and surrounded by wild old trees.
He tripped over a fallen branch and crashed into the snow. As he scrambled back to his feet, he caught a glimpse of the roiling black mass rushing through the twilight shadows towards him. He heard whispers, like distant screams. Overhanging tree branches splintered apart the instant the shadow curse fell across them—ripped to shreds just as the groom, Victaro, had been.
Raw panic electrified Kiram’s trembling muscles. He fought through the snow and raced into the darkness of the dense woods. From overhead came the cry of a bird. A crow. First one, then another, and another.
“Help me!” Kiram shouted, praying that this once Bahiim mysticism would serve him.“Please, sisters, help me!”
He didn’t have the strength to waste waiting for a response. He kept moving; then suddenly black wings swept past his head. A crow circled him and then flew between the big pines on Kiram’s left. Desperate for any hope, Kiram plunged through the undergrowth after the bird. Other crows swept down from the branches, leading Kiram and calling him, their harsh voices challenging the terrible growls and shrieks of the curse behind him.
Hard cramps bit through Kiram’s legs. His lungs felt raw. He staggered blindly after the crows, running between towering trees and snow-covered brambles. Then, as one the crows alighted in the bare branches of a huge oak. Kiram fell against the rough trunk of the old tree. His legs buckled beneath him.
The black mass of the curse came up fast, rushing after Kiram. It arched up over the snow like a cresting wave. As its shadow neared Kiram a sick pain punched into his body. Something twisted through his intestines.
It must have blood, Kiram. Alizadeh’s voice moved over him like a chill wind.
Then the crows dived from their perches, sweeping down over Kiram and the curse crashed across their backs. Burning feathers and blood spattered the snow and pelted Kiram. Crow carcasses fell, smoking, to the ground. The curse rose like a black steam from the mutilated birds. Kiram pressed himself back against the oak, not wanting even a wisp to touch him. The curse hung like smoke in the air.
Kiram held his breath, afraid on some primal level that the curse might somehow hear him gasp or feel him exhale. He stared intently as the black wisps slowly coalesced into the dark silhouette of a man.
Kiram recognized the long body with its broad shoulders and slim hips. The curse could have been either Javier’s or Fedeles’ shadow, suspended in the air before his eyes. It took a step closer to Kiram, one hand extending, but then stopped. Suddenly its featureless head turned back as if hearing a call. Its mass dropped to the snow and slithered back across Kiram’s tracks. In an instant it was gone.
Kiram dragged in a breath of the frigid air. His entire body shuddered from both cold and shock. The blood streaming down his calf felt alarmingly hot and suddenly he felt aware of the scratches where the crows’ bones had grazed his skin. Black feathers matted with blood spattered his arms and face. Pieces of skulls and feathers pitted the snow all around him. His own blood smeared out from his right leg in a rapidly cooling pool.
Impending sobs tightened his throat and tears welled in his eyes. He wanted to curl into a ball and have his mother tell him that everything would be all right. He wanted to be back home and feel his father’s strong embrace and know he was safe. Kiram wiped furiously at his face, knowing that he only succeeded in smearing crows’ blood across his cheeks.
He couldn’t act like a child, damn it.
He watched his breath rise in white clouds and dissipate into the dark. No one was going to come rescue him—certainly not his parents—and if he didn’t get back to the academy he was going to freeze to death.
Kiram pushed himself back from the old oak. A pang flared through his calf but the leg still took his weight. He followed his own tracks back towards the academy. Every time he heard a sound or saw a motion in the branches above him he froze in fear. An owl swooped past him. Some small creature shrieked and skittered over a tree limb. Clusters of blue jays watched him in eerie silence.
Snow began to fall in light streams at first, but then it grew heavy. Kiram’s old footprints became shallow impressions. He struggled to follow his path back through the forest.
Huge flakes of snow settled in his hair and melted against his skin. Kiram shoved his hands into his coat pockets. At first his feet ached, almost burned from the cold, but now they were numb weights. He couldn’t stop shivering.
It couldn’t be much further. Kiram thought he could smell oven smoke in the air. Just a little farther, he promised himself, but his steps were unsteady and he wasn’t even sure of where he was anymore. Suddenly his boot caught on a buried stump and he tumbled down an incline, slamming into the trunk of a tree.
He struggled up to his feet, but the snow slipped beneath him and he slid farther down the incline, again only coming to a stop when he crashed against a hard barrier. This time the aged stones of a crumbling wall pummeled his back and shoulder.
Kiram lay still, too cold to care about his scrapes and bruises. Snow drifted down onto him. He was so tired and this fucking day just wouldn’t let up. He tried to roll over but his arm wouldn’t move. Instead a terrible dislocated feeling shot through his shoulder. His calf seemed dead and he didn’t have the strength to force himself up to his feet again.
He had to rest. Just for a few minutes, then he’d go on. Kiram closed his eyes. He imagined how he would brace himself with his left leg and use the wall to support his weight. He’d get up; it wouldn’t be all that difficult. If he couldn’t climb the slippery incline, then he’d follow the wall. It had to have been part of the academy grounds at one time. Doubtless it would lead him close enough that he could catch a glimpse of the dormitory. He’d probably be back in less than an hour.
With that thought a delirious calm settled over Kiram. He felt a little warmer, almost comfortable, now. Perhaps the snow was letting up. His muscles relaxed and he slept as blankets of snow settled over his body.
The hands that gripped him felt like heated brands. Kiram opened his eyes and for a moment saw nothing but brilliant light, then felt the sensual heat of the white hell.
Javier’s black hair and dark eyes came into focus and slowly Kiram made out the rest of his features. He leaned over Kiram. Dark sky spread out behind him. High in the sky a crow circled.
What kind of crow flew when it was so dark? And when had it stopped snowing?
“Kiram.” Javier’s voice seemed strangely distant and his expression was strained. “Can you hear me?”
Kiram tried to respond but found himself producing only a weak groan. Javier’s hand felt blazing hot as it stroked his cheek.
“Just stay awake, Kiram. Stay with me,” Javier said. Then he straightened and looked back over his shoulder, shouting, “I found him!”
Kiram was aware of being lifted up against Javier’s chest and the sparks from the white hell crackling around him. He thought he heard Nestor’s voice and Elezar’s as well, but he wasn’t sure. Only the heat and light of Javier’s presence felt real to him. Slowly the range of his awareness grew. His shoulder and calf hurt. His hands and feet ached. A strange bouncing motion sent pangs through his shoulder. They were riding, he realized. He was on Lunaluz, leaning against Javier, and still high above them the crow circled, calling.
“The curse.” Kiram tried to get the words out but his lips felt leaden. “It’s in Fedeles. That’s where it hides.”
“I know.” Javier’s voice was rough.
Of course Javier knew. Kiram leaned back against Javier’s chest.
“Fedeles destroyed my engine.” It alarmed him that he couldn’t get more than a whisper out and his words sounded slurred. “He didn’t want to do it. He was crying the whole time. I think the curse inside him drove him to it.” Suddenly Kiram realized what that would mean. The man who controlled the curse must have found out that Scholar Donamillo planned to use Kiram’s engine to free Fedeles. How had he found out? Only a few people knew any
thing about it, aside from himself, Javier, and Master Donamillo. Genimo knew apparently and perhaps Morisio had guessed at the truth. One of them must have let some vital detail slip.
“Fedeles tried to tell me about the man who put the curse in him but that’s when it came out of him and attacked me.” Speaking just a few words felt exhausting. Kiram drew in a deep breath. Javier said nothing, but he dropped the reins from his right hand and gently touched Kiram’s chest.
The shadows of apple trees danced and jumped as he and Javier rode past. Behind them Kiram could hear other riders. He closed his eyes and then immediately opened them again when a blaze of white light surged over him.
“Don’t sleep, Kiram. Stay with me.” Javier gripped him hard and a searing heat flared through Kiram’s chest as Javier opened the white hell again.
“I’m awake,” Kiram protested. “You don’t have to cook me to wake me up, you know.”
Through the radiant light, Kiram made out the gray silhouettes of the academy buildings. The light dimmed, receding back into Javier. Darkness closed in around them, swallowing their surroundings in shadows.
Despite the night cold, Kiram felt better. His shoulder still ached, but it moved when he shifted his arm to touch the makeshift bandage wrapped around his calf. For the first time all night he had the luxury to be aware of his hunger. A tantalizing scent of roast fowl seemed to linger on the air.
“Something smells like roasted pigeon,” Kiram whispered.
“It’s you,” Javier replied and then Kiram remembered the burned remains of the crows that spattered his entire body.
“I need a bath.”
“You’ll have one soon enough.”
Kiram leaned back against Javier, peering into the shadows of the trees; he thought he could see jays staring back at him. The crow was no longer anywhere to be seen. When Kiram looked back past Javier, he glimpsed the other Hellions riding behind them. Even Genimo rode among them.
“How long have I been gone?” Kiram asked.
“Past last bell, at least.” Javier scowled at the stables ahead of them. “That’s when Fedeles came and told me that he thought he’d killed you.”