Ginn Hale - Lord of the White Hell book Two

He immediately flipped through Donamillo's journal. The reading was much more difficult. The script, which at a glance looked like Cadeleonian, was in fact phonetic Haldiim spelled out in Cadeleonian letters. Still, Kiram soon discovered the words he dreaded finding.

Scholar Donamillo had solved Yassin's problem of controlling the shadow curse by trapping the tortured souls of the Old Rage in an immense and very refined ghost locket. But more than that he'd figured out that the shadow curse could be fed into a living body. Too much at once and the result would be agonizing nightmares, madness and death. Donamillo had filled several pages with notes detailing the effects of his tests on the Tornesal family. He'd made a record, with a tone of cool pleasure, of the minutiae of each and every death.

But subtle control of the shadow curse had eluded him and, even more insulting to his secret Bahiim heritage, the shajdi had protected the Tornesal heir from even his most direct assault.

Donamillo had wanted the shajdi-the white hell. He'd felt that it was his due and it'd infuriated him that the height of Bahiim achievement had been tied to a Cadeleonian bloodline.

Kiram didn't want to read more. And yet he had to. He tried to push back his revulsion at what Scholar Donamillo had done-at how betrayed he felt-and focus on the information in the journal. He supposed he could take a bitter consolation in the fact that Donamillo had been exact and meticulous in his notes: a repellant human being but scholarly in his monstrosity.

When two students of Tornesal blood came into his grasp Donamillo realized that he could use them against one another. He knew he couldn't directly attack Javier. Not even by placing him directly in one of his mechanical cures could Donamillo get past the power of the shajdi.

But Fedeles was different. He was Javier's heir and close friend. He was the chink in Javier's armor and the route for Donamillo's ambition.

Careful not to kill Fedeles, Donamillo had fed the shadow curse into his body slowly in insidious monthly treatments. Fedeles had adapted as if he were building immunity to a poison. He'd suffered horribly as the curse tortured him and ground away his identity, but he hadn't died.

A nauseous guilt roiled in Kiram's belly. How many assurances had he offered Fedeles while escorting him to those treatments?

Once the shadow curse had suffused Fedeles' blood, flesh and bones, Donamillo had discovered that he could use his mechanical cure to further invade Fedeles' body with his own spirit. Again he'd been patient, infiltrating Fedeles like a cancer while slowly abandoning his own body.

Kiram realized that once Donamillo completely controlled Fedeles he would be positioned to destroy Javier and inherit both the shajdi and all of Rauma. He felt almost nauseated but he kept reading.

According to the journal, even isolated and tortured, Fedeles still fought. He'd managed to tell a groom some of what had happened to him and Donamillo had acted immediately to keep from being exposed. An edge of worry invaded Donamillo's notes. For all his power over Fedeles the young man had resisted his dominion. Fedeles had defied him with fits of wild manic hysteria and successive attempts at suicide.

To overcome Fedeles in one sweeping treatment, Donamillo had needed more power than his hand crank provided, but he'd had no way to generate such sustained energy. And then like a blessing Kiram Kir-Zaki and his steam engine had fallen into Donamillo's hands.

Kiram snapped the journal closed, unable to bear the gleeful pleasure with which Donamillo wrote about bringing Kiram to the academy and gaining his trust.

He felt sick. Really sick.

With shaking hands he stuffed the journals in his coat pocket, tossed down his payment for the meal, and dashed out of the public house. He staggered behind a stable and threw up. After a few minutes his nausea subsided, though his guilt did not.

Kiram found a trough of fresh water and rinsed the sick, sour taste from his mouth. Fedeles had begged Kiram for help. He thought he was so clever, so noble, promising to save him. Instead Kiram had brought ruin. More than that, he'd been brought to the academy specifically for this purpose. Not because of his brilliance, not because Donamillo believed that he could win the Crown Challenge, but simply to serve the other man's desire for a shajdi.

No wonder that Fedeles had attacked his engine. He'd been trying to save not only his own life but Javier's as well.

A seething hate coursed through Kiram as he thought of Scholar Donamillo's cruelty. A shajdi could never-never-be allowed to fall into the hands of a man like him.

Kiram's head pounded. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep calming breath. Far away the bells of the Grunito chapel still rang. The musky, sweet smell of hay drifted over Kiram. Fedeles had always hidden in the stables. Now Kiram thought he could almost hear Fedeles' voice, whispering the names of horses.

An instant later the faint voice grew closer. A long black shadow stretched through the stable door. Then another and another darkened the floor and as Kiram listened he realized that Fedeles really was here in Anacleto.

For just an instant he couldn't understand how that could be, but when he heard Fedeles speak in cold, controlled tones he knew with certainty.

It might be Fedeles' body standing in the stable, but the mind and spirit within belonged to Donamillo. According to all Kiram had read in the journals, Donamillo would have full control of Fedeles' body by now. He would be young and strong and just one trial away from inheriting all of Rauma and achieving his life's goal.

Kiram's stomach lurched. He ducked back into the cover of an empty stall and fought to control his racing heart and flipping stomach. If he was caught now with the journals, Donamillo would surely kill him.

"It is an absolute imperative that the medallion Javier Tornesal wears should be brought to me the moment he is taken." Though the voice was Fedeles' the words and tone so obviously belonged to Scholar Donamillo that Kiram couldn't believe no one else noted it.

Kiram peered through the crack between the loosely hung stall door and the wall. In the sharp morning light Fedeles' tall figure stood out in almost impossible blackness. His eyes, hair, clothes were all black but more than that, the shadows he cast and those clinging to his body were darker than any others in the stable, utterly devoid of light.

Somehow none of the two dozen men who trailed him into the stable seemed to take any note of the eerie shadows. They attended Fedeles' possessed body with the unquestioning regard most common Cadeleonians held for noblemen. From the violet crosses marking their uniforms Kiram guessed that they were the royal bishop's men and from the ease with which they wore their swords Kiram knew they were experienced soldiers.

"I have sent Lieutenant Montaval with six pikemen to guard the city gate, in case he gets past you," Fedeles informed one of the men. From the gold bars on the man's cloak Kiram guessed he was a captain. Despite his white beard he looked strong and agile.

"He won't get past us," the captain replied with certainty. "Our blades are soaked in muerate poison and he'll be unarmed when he comes out of the chapel. Demon or not, we'll bring him down."

Fedeles frowned at the man's confident smile. "You shouldn't underestimate him." He paced past several stalls, his gaze flickering up to the horses' faces as if it were a tic. His lips moved, mouthing names but making no sound.

The captain watched him with a pitying expression.

"Do not fear, my lord. I have not underestimated him," the captain assured him. "Even if he manages to slip past us at the Grunito house, I have twelve of my best riders posted on the High Street and another ten watching the gates of the Haldiim district. No matter where he goes, we'll have him."