by Ginn Hale
Javier frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“There’s a shield between you and the raw power of the shajdi,” Alizadeh went on and Kiram found himself listening as closely as Javier. Rafie leaned back against a tree trunk and closed his eyes as if resigned to hearing a long story that he already knew.
“I’m not sure—” Javier began but then his expression lit up. “Do you mean the medallion? Calixto’s medallion. My father said that it would protect me from the fire of the white hell. Every Tornesal who has possessed the white hell has worn it.”
“You’re wearing it now, I assume?” Excitement brightened Alizadeh’s face.
“He always wears it,” Kiram provided.
Javier lifted the medallion out from his vest. Its thick gold chain looked dull compared to the shining metal of the medallion itself. Though Kiram had seen it countless times he found himself transfixed by the heavy gold circle and the fine incantations that traced its surface.
Even Rafie cracked an eye open and after catching sight of the medallion he sat straight up. “Is that a ghost locket?”
“Indeed it is.” Alizadeh gazed at the medallion with a keen, knowing expression. “The question is whose ghost inhabits it?”
Javier glanced to Kiram, his fingers curled protectively around the medallion.
“What on earth is a ghost locket?” Kiram asked, looking between Rafie and Alizadeh for an answer. Rafie shook his head and returned to his slump against the trunk of a plum tree.
“It is dangerous magic, born of greed or desperation.” Alizadeh’s eyes remained on the medallion as he spoke. “The incantations on a ghost locket hold a soul trapped between the living world that surrounds us and the realm of death.”
“Why would anyone want to do that?” Kiram asked. Javier’s expression was uncertain as well.
“Because sometimes it is very useful to be able to hold a soul—particularly if it has become a curse,” Alizadeh replied, though it wasn’t Kiram he looked at but Javier. “But more importantly, a soul trapped in a ghost locket can also be used as a door to a shajdi. Though in that case the woman or man whose soul is held within the locket must willingly participate in its creation.” Alizadeh sighed heavily and one of his crows dropped to his shoulder and nudged its beak affectionately against his ear.
“No true Bahiim would ever take possession of a shajdi in such a manner. It’s terribly cruel and an imperfect union in any case,” Alizadeh went on, “but someone desperate with only a little training might attempt it not knowing the cost.”
Kiram frowned as he tried to absorb everything Alizadeh was telling them. Javier’s medallion wasn’t just a protection but must have been integral to opening the white hell.
“You mean my ancestor, Calixto,” Javier stated.
“Yes,” Alizadeh replied. “But obviously not him alone. After all, he lived on to control the shajdi. Someone else made an immense sacrifice to give him that power.”
Suddenly Kiram remembered the few pages of Calixto’s diary that Javier had shown him, when he’d been looking for information concerning his hero, Yassin Lif-Harun. A terrible thought came to Kiram.
“Yassin,” Javier said softly. He stole a glance to Kiram, then looked away almost guiltily. “The locket holds Yassin Lif-Harun’s soul.”
“Yassin Lif-Harun?” Rafie sat upright, incredulous. “Yassin Lif-Harun, the famous half-Haldiim astronomer?”
Even Alizadeh raised his brows in surprise.
Javier nodded sheepishly. “I know it sounds mad, but he and Calixto were close, very close…” Again Javier’s dark gaze darted to Kiram and this time Kiram knew exactly what Javier meant.
“They were lovers?” Kiram asked.
Javier nodded. “Calixto wrote about it in his diary, though he never did say how they opened the white—the shajdi. He only wrote that the Mirogoths were at the academy walls and none of them expected to survive. So they had nothing to lose.”
“Yes, they would have seen it that way at the time.” A look of sorrow passed over Alizadeh’s face as he studied the medallion. “Yassin would have bound himself to Javier’s ancestor, Calixto, with the most powerful of blood oaths, one that would last generations. Here you can see the symbols binding flesh and soul.” Alizadeh reached out and pointed to a circle of tangled incantations.
Kiram felt an odd familiarity when looking at the symbols but he couldn’t place where he’d seen them before. Most likely he was remembering them from countless nights lying with Javier.
“Once Yassin had bound his soul to Calixto’s bloodline,” Alizadeh’s gaze moved over the incantations on the ghost locket as if he were reading them, “he would have taken his own life. Only in death could his soul have entered a shajdi. Then the bond between him and Calixto would have allowed Calixto to reach into the shajdi through him—”
“But that would mean that Yassin’s soul was, and still is, stretched between life and death.” Rafie’s expression was deeply troubled.
“Yes.” Alizadeh drew his hand back from Javier’s medallion. “Half of his soul is held here in this locket, still sheltering Calixto’s descendants and allowing them access to a shajdi without the benefit of Bahiim training. But the other half of Yassin was long ago drawn into the shajdi. His soul will have been distorted and shredded over the years. I can’t say just how intact he would be after so much time.”
Kiram was aware that he and Rafie and Alizadeh all turned their attention to Javier at that moment. Javier flushed slightly under their scrutiny.
“I don’t know…” Javier said quietly. “I haven’t seen or heard him in at least six years. I had begun to think he had been some figment I’d dreamed up…”
“But you did see him?” Alizadeh asked.
“I heard him more than saw him. When I was eight and nine he would speak to me in Cadeleonian and Haldiim and tell me things. He taught me how to call the white hell and to draw wards to protect myself. I only ever saw him in dreams.”
“That does explain a number of things.” Alizadeh gave Javier a crooked smile. “Your amazing fluency in the Haldiim language, why your home is protected by Bahiim spells, and most importantly how the shajdi has remained uncorrupted. Your ghost had some training as a Bahiim.”
Kiram stared at the medallion, trying to imagine some spirit haunting it, but couldn’t picture it. “What did he look like when you saw him?”
“A little like you.” The flush coloring Javier’s cheeks darkened slightly. “When I first saw you in my room wearing your prayer clothes, I thought for a moment that somehow you were him.”
Remembering Javier’s open flirtation that first day and his own awkward responses, Kiram felt his own cheeks growing warm. Thankfully, Javier had already turned his attention back to Alizadeh.
“Could Yassin have known that would happen to him when he did this?” Javier’s voice was oddly strained. He wore the same stricken expression as he had during the autumn tournament when he had seen Enevir Helio’s stallion broken and screaming in the mud.
“Perhaps we should ask the man himself,” Alizadeh suggested.
“You can do that?” Javier asked.
“Indeed I can.” Alizadeh smiled. “Though I’ll have to make a show of the effort, otherwise Rafie is going to know I’m recovered and he’ll make me fetch my own lunch.”
Rafie just rolled his eyes. Then he gestured for Kiram to come join him under the plum tree. Kiram moved quickly to his side, though his attention remained on Alizadeh and Javier.
“You must concentrate on Yassin, Javier.” Alizadeh spoke softly. “Call him as you would have when you were a child.”
Javier nodded and closed his eyes, cupping the medallion tenderly in his hands.
Alizadeh also closed his eyes and reached out with his left hand. He didn’t touch the medallion. Instead he held his palm over it while folding his right hand against his chest. For a moment they both simply stood there.
Then air around Javier seemed to ripple as if distorted
by waves of heat. Steadily the shadows of his body seemed to deepen and spread, rising off Javier like some strange dark steam—the way the shadow curse had risen from Fedeles. Kiram watched it, feeling uneasy.
As Kiram stared into the dark form he caught a glimpse of gold curls, faint flashes of white cloth and dark skin, but they disappeared almost as soon as he saw them.
Javier swayed as if asleep on his feet as Alizadeh traced a symbol in the air and spoke a terrible grating word. All at once the faint shadow coalesced into the form of a sharp-featured Haldiim youth. The heavy line of his jaw struck Kiram as Cadeleonian and his eyes were nearly as dark as Javier’s. His slim form flickered between solidity and translucence, shuddering like a candle flame. His shadowy arms wrapped around Javier. His head rested against Javier’s shoulder and he glared at Alizadeh.
You will not break this pact, Bahiim. The words slithered into Kiram’s mind, making him shudder.
Rafie caught Kiram’s arm and pulled him back beside him.
“He’s a friend, Yassi.” Javier’s voice sounded faint as if he were miles from Kiram. “He wants to help us.”
All the Bahiim want is to keep their secrets. He will break our pact and strip you of my protection.
Alizadeh laid his left hand on the medallion in Javier’s hands.
NO! Yassin shrieked.
White light exploded from Javier and gushed over Alizadeh. Flames burst up over Alizadeh’s prayer clothes and a scorching wind tore through his leather cloak. At his feet the spring grass blackened.
Instinctively, Kiram started forward to Alizadeh’s aid but Rafie held him in a tight grip and whispered, “He knows what he’s doing, Kiram.”
Alizadeh uttered a low guttural word and drove his right hand into Yassin’s translucent body. He closed his hand into a fist and the fire of the white hell suddenly died.
Javier swayed on his feet but caught himself. He seemed dazed, his eyes only half open. In front of him, Yassin stared at Alizadeh like a fearful child. He clamped his flickering hands around Alizadeh’s forearm, clearly trying to wrench himself free but could not.
“I am Alizadeh Lif-Moussu, little ghost, and I will not harm you or your ward.” Alizadeh tone was gentle but he didn’t pull his hand back from where it seemed to grip Yassin’s heart. “Tell me how you came to be Javier Tornesal’s guardian.”
Yassin shuddered in Alizadeh’s grip.
I bound myself to Calixto and to his bloodline. Between his blood and my spirit we opened the shajdi. We became the white hell that drives back the Mirogoth invaders.
Yassin gave Alizadeh a defiant glare.
“So you were,” Alizadeh agreed with that same indulgent smile that Kiram had often seen him offer to impudent youths. “But that was long ago. Calixto Tornesal has been dead nearly a hundred years. The Mirogoth tribes are allies to the Cadeleonian kings. What are you doing now, Yassin Lif-Harun?”
Uncertainty crept into Yassin’s expression. His entire body faded a little, allowing Kiram to clearly see the branches of oak behind him.
I keep the pact.
Yassin regained a little solidity with this affirmation, though Kiram could still see straight through his legs.
I remain between life and death holding the shajdi open. I wait.
“You wait?” Alizadeh asked.
Kiram thought he saw longing in the ghost’s wavering features.
I wait for Calixto.
“To join him?” Alizadeh asked.
Yassin nodded.
“But you can’t,” Alizadeh said softly. “You trapped yourself between death and rebirth when you opened the shajdi. You can’t find Calixto now, can you?”
Yassin shook his head and then glared at Alizadeh as if he were to blame.
If the Bahiim had done their duty, if they had defended the kingdom against the Mirogoth devils, then Calixto and I could have lived—we could have been together.
The anguish in Yassin’s words made Kiram shudder.
“History is full of wrongs and regrets.” Alizadeh considered the ghost. “Will you let me set this one right?”
You wish to break the pact.
Alizadeh shrugged. “Calixto’s descendant needs to possess the shajdi fully if he is to destroy a curse. While you stand between him and that, he and his family suffer.”
I protect him.
“Too well,” Alizadeh chided the ghost.
You want to steal the shajdi for yourself!
At this Alizadeh gave the kind of a hard, cruel laugh that Kiram had never heard from him before.
“If that was my wish,” Alizadeh leaned close to the ghost, and his voice grew chilling, “then I would have already ripped the shajdi from the boy’s flesh and devoured his heart. I was a master of the Black Fire before I became a Bahiim, little ghost. I have fed on the souls of guardians far stronger than you.”
Alizadeh flexed his fingers inside the ghost’s chest and a shudder passed through Yassin’s faint body. To Kiram’s horror, Javier gasped and choked as well. Then Alizadeh opened his hand, allowing Javier to draw in a steady breath.
“It is not my intention to steal from your ward.” Alizadeh’s voice went soft again. “I am offering to teach him what you cannot. To do so you must allow him to stand in the fire of the shajdi unprotected should he choose to. Will you do that for him?”
Yassin gazed at Javier. His expression seemed to radiate tender concern.
If he takes the shajdi, then there will be no need for me.
“You could join Calixto then,” Alizadeh said. “I would see to it that you were freed.”
Yassin smiled and he looked almost luminous. I will allow you to teach him, if that is what he wants.
“If it is what he wants,” Alizadeh agreed.
Alizadeh lifted his hand from the medallion and whispered a word. The medallion slapped back against Javier’s chest and the ghost vanished. Javier jerked slightly, stumbling to the side. Alizadeh reached out but Javier managed to find his balance. He drew in a deep breath and looked around as if he’d just awoken and wasn’t sure of where he stood.
“I feel like I was dreaming just now,” Javier said. “Did you see him, Kiram?”
“I saw him.” As Kiram started to rise, Rafie at last loosened his grip. Only as Rafie released his arm did Kiram realize how tightly Rafie had held him. His bicep felt bruised.
As he drew near Kiram saw the sweat beading Alizadeh’s brow and the exhaustion in his face. He leaned heavily on his cane.
“I wish you weren’t such a show off.” Rafie slipped up to Alizadeh’s side and wrapped a supporting arm around his back. He helped Alizadeh down into his low seat at the base of the old oak.
“Are you all right?” Javier crouched down beside him.
“Of course.” Alizadeh gave both Javier and Kiram a bright smile. “I just like to have Rafie fuss over me, you know.”
“No doubt you’ll love the tonic I’m going to make you drink,” Rafie replied.
Alizadeh made a sour face. “Can’t it wait? I think Javier and I still have a few things to discuss.”
“You have the two hours it will take me to pick the duera flowers and brew your draught.” Rafie ran his hand across Alizadeh’s brow, brushing gold ringlets of his damp hair back from his face. “After that you must rest.”
Alizadeh caught Rafie’s hand and kissed his palm. Kiram found the exchange relieving after so much strangeness but Javier flushed deep red and then averted his gaze to the grass.
Kiram wondered how a small gesture could fluster Javier when a ghost springing up from his body hardly gave him a moment’s pause. But then hells, lost souls and black curses had always been part of Javier’s life. The existence of a ghostly guardian was probably far less startling than two men displaying the gentle affection of lovers.
As he took his seat beside Alizadeh, Kiram attempted to put his own shock at the sight of the ghost into perspective. Perhaps the ghost of an ancient genius, trapped in a medallion and charged with the guardian
ship of the Tornesal bloodline, was no more shocking than two men kissing on the open street. Maybe it would seem normal if he were a Bahiim and had spent years apparently fighting curses and hunting shapechangers and eating people’s hearts…
Alizadeh had really said that, hadn’t he?
There was nothing forbidding or cruel in Alizadeh’s countenance now as he smiled tiredly at Javier. Still Kiram felt unnerved by the new perception that there were dangerous, adult aspects of Alizadeh—and doubtless Rafie— he knew nothing about.
Chapter Twelve
Alizadeh said, “I’ve extracted a promise from your ghost to allow you to take on the full force of the shajdi.”
Javier nodded, appearing so calm that Kiram envied him.
“But I won’t teach you unless you are willing to accept the responsibility of a Bahiim.” Alizadeh batted at the smoking holes in the front of his prayer shirt. Then he seemed to belatedly notice that the rest of his clothes as well as his cloak were scorched and burned through in places. He gave Rafie a crooked smile. “Why do I bother with clothing at all?”
“Because your ass gets sun-burned otherwise. I’ll find you something less charred to wear.” Rafie strode across the garden and disappeared through the kitchen door.
“I would perish without you,” Alizadeh called after him and then turned his attention back to Javier. “I imagine you’ll want some time to think about this.”
“As a Bahiim I will be able to break the curse, yes?”
“Yes,” Alizadeh replied. “In fact it would be your sacred obligation to do so.”
Javier frowned thoughtfully. “Can I ask why you’re willing to teach me but you won’t just break the curse yourself if it’s a Bahiim’s obligation?”
“I’m bound by an old oath and foolish modern politics,” Alizadeh replied. “Right now the Bahiim circles are controlled by several younger conservatives who would like to forget what it once meant to be Bahiim. They’re happy blessing feasts, officiating weddings and funerals. They don’t want to reclaim the responsibilities of controlling and safeguarding the shajdi. They certainly don’t want to take on curses or the monstrosities of the shadowed realms. To them it’s a relief that all the ancient shajdis are sealed and that the old Bahiim have sworn not to open any new ones.”