Ginn Hale - Lord of the White Hell Book One

"I guess…I've only ridden in the arena."

"After three months Firaj is probably bored with that routine."

"Horses get bored?" Kiram couldn't imagine an animal that was content to stand in a pasture grazing for hours on end being bored by anything.

"Of course." Javier stroked Firaj's cheek. "They feel as much as any man does and they aren't above playing pranks to alleviate their tedium."

"You don't think Firaj pranced backwards just because he was bored, do you?"

"I don't know, but I think he might enjoy something new so long as it isn't too startling." Javier glanced back at Kiram and smiled. "He's a little like you that way, I think."

Kiram was sure that if it hadn't been so early he would have had a retort, but as it was he just rolled his eyes at Javier.

Javier showed him how to saddle and bridle Firaj. Previously the grooms had always done this for him. Kiram hadn't thought it took so much work. Somehow he'd imagined that the grooms just tossed the saddles on the horses' backs and buckled them up and everything was ready. Instead he discovered that he had to work slowly, warming the bit in his hands and tightening the girth incrementally so that neither device caused Firaj undue irritation.

"You have to show him that you'll be good to him, or he won't trust you to direct him. Though that doesn't mean letting him get away with anything he likes." Javier gave Kiram a meaningful glance.

"I'm not a horse," Kiram responded.

"Of course not," Javier replied but then he smiled. "Though there are similarities between horses and men."

Kiram pulled the girth another notch tighter. Firaj seemed to hardly notice. He had given himself up completely to Javier's firm strokes and scratches. He brought his head down happily to accept the bridle when Javier slipped it over his nose and buckled it behind his head.

"A mount must acknowledge that the rider is in charge, first and foremost." Javier sounded a little more serious. "There are any number of ways to convince a horse of that. The fastest is to simply beat him when he resists. But that tends to produce a mount without courage. He will run for you but only because he's afraid not to. If he comes up against something he fears more than you then he will disobey. Fear only goes so far. If you're going to ask something truly difficult of him, like carrying you into battle or taking a blind leap, then he can't just fear you. He has to trust you and love you."

"I don't think Firaj trusts, fears, or loves me," Kiram said.

"No, probably not. He's just met you. I think you still have to teach him to respect you." Javier checked the girth and then handed the horse's reins to Kiram. "Why don't you lead him out?"

"How do I do make him trust me?" Kiram asked Javier as they walked through the stable.

"Be kind but firm with him. Stop him when he goes too far. Just don't let him take advantage of you." Javier glanced at Kiram. "Treat him the same way you treat me. You'll do just fine."

"Very funny."

Once they were outside, Kiram swung up into Firaj's saddle. He was happy that he had mastered this one aspect of riding if none other. He could mount and dismount smoothly.

"So, where to now?" Kiram asked.

"We'll follow the orchard trail. I'll walk alongside you."

In the orchard, the branches of the apple trees hung low with fruit. Kiram could hear the stream far ahead. A brilliant blue jay screeched at them as they passed. Kiram watched as the bird flitted from one tree to the next and then it disappeared back into the shadows of the orchard.

"The jays in Anacleto aren't nearly so bright," Kiram commented. "Their heads are completely black, so they look like they've all singed their faces from looking down chimneys. My grandmother used to call them soot-beaked spies." Kiram had expected this ride to be more of an ordeal, like the lessons he took with Master Ignacio. But Javier seemed content to simply stride along as if he were taking a morning stroll.

"The jays in Rauma are blue like these, but much bigger and louder. I've never liked jays. Might be one of the reasons I'm not so fond of the color blue either," Javier commented.

"You must get pretty sick of these uniforms then." Kiram glanced down at Javier. "What color do you like?"

Javier looked back up at him. His expression seemed so relaxed that Kiram wondered if he might still be a little sleepy.

"I like gold and yellow," Javier said. "Your hair is almost exactly the perfect color."

Kiram wasn't prepared for such an artless compliment from Javier. Somehow it touched him more deeply than any of Javier's innuendos. He felt his cheeks flushing a bright red.

This once Javier didn't gloat over Kiram's reaction. He seemed more concerned with Kiram's riding.

"Try to sit up a little straighter," Javier said. "If you hunch like that your back will take a pounding. It'll really hurt after a long race."

"I'm not going to be racing.am I?"

"This year you'll only be in the opening competition, but next year, who knows? Either way you'll be more comfortable if you straighten a little more. That's it." Javier studied him for a moment. "You've got decent posture for someone who's never ridden before."

"It's from dancing, I think."

"Maybe. Or you might have picked up more from Master Ignacio than you think. Rein Firaj to a stop and have him stand at attention while you pick a few of those apples."

Kiram followed Javier's instructions. He had a little difficulty keeping Firaj from grazing but at last succeeded and picked four apples from an overhanging branch.

"At the end of the ride you should give him an apple."

"Would you like one?"

Javier nodded. "Hand it to me though, don't throw it. Horses can spook if there are things flying around behind their heads."

Kiram did as he was instructed and Javier peeled the red skin from one of the apples with his penknife. Kiram was impressed with how quickly and cleanly he did it. He wondered if an affinity for carving ran in Javier's family.

"Has Fedeles ever shown you any of his carvings?" Kiram asked.

"Carvings?" Javier frowned. "He carves?"

"He said he did. He showed me several figures cut into trees near the stream."

"Do you mean all those birds and that little man picking his nose that looks just like Holy Father Habalan?" Javier asked.

"I thought he looked something like Holy Father Habalan too," Kiram admitted.

Javier didn't look amused. "Fedeles didn't carve that or any of the others. They were here when we arrived at the Academy three years ago. He must be playing some kind of joke on you." Javier cut a wedge out of his apple and handed the piece to Kiram.

"What's wrong with him?" That wasn't quite what Kiram wanted to know, but he didn't think Javier would answer him honestly if he asked whether Fedeles was getting worse.

"I told you, he's cursed." Javier stared out into the deep blue shadows of the orchard.

"But cursed how? I mean, do you know what this curse does?" Kiram took a bite of his apple. A sharp, fragrant taste filled his mouth. He guessed that most people would have preferred something sweeter, but he liked the edge to the flavor.

"The curse burns into your body like a fever and fills your head with nightmares," Javier said softly. "At first you hear screams but they sound like they're far away and they don't come often. You start hearing them more in the evenings, especially when you're lying in bed just on the verge of falling asleep. You get stomach aches and strange, piercing pains. You begin to dream of dying. Night after night you dream of iron pikes splitting up through your body, and the weight of your own flesh driving you further down onto them. Soon the dreams spread into your waking hours. The pain becomes unceasing and all you can hear are screams, hundreds of screams. You can't speak. You can't eat. You can hardly think. All you want is to die."