Ginn Hale - Lord of the White Hell Book One

Javier shoved his hair back from his face, his expression strangely tense. "It came for me when I was seven. It would have killed me if my father hadn't passed the white hell to me then. He saved my life but it left him no defense of his own. The curse took him last year and now it's killing Fedeles."

Javier glanced up at Kiram. His dark eyes were too bright and though he had shed no tears, Kiram thought he must have come close. Javier made an effort at one of his unconcerned smiles.

"The thing is, I can save Fedeles. I know how. All I have to do is give the white hell to him. It will burn the curse out of him."

"But then you wouldn't have any protection," Kiram stated.

Javier nodded and dropped his gaze from Kiram.

"I love Fedeles but I'm just too much of a pig to die like that, even for him." Javier hurled his peeled apple away violently. A jay shrieked as the apple struck a tree branch. Firaj gave a slight shake of his head but didn't seem alarmed by the sudden motion or noise.

They traveled a little further in silence, crossing a second bridge over the stream and wandering slowly back towards the academy. Kiram wished he could think of something to say but there were no words he knew of that could make any of what Javier had described seem less terrible.

For the first time in his life he wondered what he would really be willing to sacrifice for his own brother or sisters. Would he be willing to suffer and die the way Javier described for any one of them? He loved his family and yet he didn't know that he would be able to make that sacrifice.

At last, Javier glanced to Kiram.

He said, "You're slouching again."

Kiram straightened.

"And don't look so serious."

"What do you mean, don't look serious? That curse is terrible!"

"Believe me, I know. But many things are terrible. You can't let yourself brood on them, especially not the things you can't change."

"But maybe this curse could be changed. Maybe there's a solution that-"

"That no one but you has thought of?" Javier's expression was one of amused skepticism. Kiram suddenly realized just how arrogant the suggestion had been. "This curse has hunted my family for eighteen years. Trust me, any solution you could imagine, some desperate Tornesal has already attempted. There have been dozens of exorcisms and pilgrimages. Vows, penances, bribes. The cathedral my uncle funded is still being built, and he's been dead seventeen years now. Before my mother died there were shifts of priests who prayed day and night for her safety. There have been blood sacrifices and even black magic. So far only Scholar Donamillo's mechanical cures have had any effect at all. And it's still no real salvation."

Kiram frowned down at the reins in his hands. He had nothing to offer. Still he hated the thought of simply giving up.

"And in any case, this is my concern. Not yours," Javier told him firmly. "You have your own problems to worry about."

"I don't have any problems as dangerous as yours."

"You may think so, but Master Ignacio might just kill you if you don't improve your riding. So I'd concentrate on that if I were you." Javier gave him one of his hard smiles.

Kiram let the subject drop. He knew Javier didn't want to discuss the curse and wouldn't be goaded. At the same time it wasn't as if Kiram could simply forget that some strange, cruel curse was hunting his upperclassman's family.

He couldn't help but wonder what had caused the curse. What gave it its power, and most importantly what could destroy it? The fact that a mechanism had impacted it-at least protected Fedeles to some extent-made Kiram think that perhaps he could find some solution. Perhaps Scholar Donamillo could use his help if Kiram could approach him in the right way.

"More jays," Javier commented.

Kiram watched them pass overhead. He forced his attention back to his riding lesson, keeping his weight down in his saddle and working into the rhythm of Firaj's long gait. Javier corrected his posture once more as they continued the ride.

When they reached the academy, bright golden sunlight illuminated the grounds and the low boom of the first bell reverberated from the chapel. None of the house servants were anywhere in sight and most of the grooms were out exercising the horses.

It was quiet in the stable. Javier showed Kiram how to brush a horse down and reminded him to offer Firaj the apple he'd picked. Firaj seemed to appreciate the treat. Though Kiram wasn't good at grooming him, Firaj endured his ministrations patiently.

"It's good to touch him. He needs to grow accustomed to your physical presence as much as you need to get used to his," Javier commented as Kiram finished brushing Firaj's coat. "When you're comfortable together it will be easier to trust each other."

Kiram glanced back. Javier returned his gaze for a moment and then reached out and tucked a curl of Kiram's hair back behind his ear.

"You'll get a little less afraid of him as time goes on," Javier said. "And he'll want to please you more and more."

Kiram knew Javier was taking advantage of the moment but this once Kiram didn't admonish him. He didn't know if it was the gentleness of Javier's expression or simply that he seemed to deserve some kind of comfort.

Kiram knew that if Javier pulled him close, kissed him, or even slipped his strong hands into his clothes, he would have allowed it. More than allowed it.

But Javier only smiled and then turned away to the door of the stall.

"Wash up before breakfast," Javier told him and then he left the stable. Kiram was both irritated and relieved. Then Firaj lifted his tail and dropped a tremendous pile of pungent excrement only inches from Kiram's boot.

"You beast," Kiram muttered to the horse. It seemed to him that Firaj looked quite pleased with himself.

The next month Kiram kept so busy that he could hardly remember a time when he didn't ride, train, or spend long hours poring over medical papers that Scholar Donamillo handed him in response to his many questions about Fedeles' condition.

As crisp fall winds set in and the days grew shorter and the nights long and cold, Kiram began to see certain advances.

He became familiar with Firaj's sense of humor, as well as the gelding's favorite places to be brushed, his preferences in apples, and the astonishing amount of filth he could accumulate in his hooves.

Kiram's riding skills improved as well, though it was not always obvious in Master Ignacio's classes. At times when Master Ignacio sneered at him and snapped criticisms ceaselessly, Kiram's nervousness undermined him. He tended to confuse the command for a trot with that of a prance. At least once a week he and Firaj were out of step with the other riders.

But now Kiram didn't allow small mistakes to panic him. That was the one thing he had learned from observing Javier handle Lunaluz when they went riding together each morning. No matter what happened, whether Lunaluz was obstinate or nervous, Javier remained calm and firm. His collected manner always settled his mount.

That knowledge served Kiram well. He controlled Firaj with more and more consistency each day. None of the few errors he made enraged Master Ignacio enough to strike him again.

He improved in battle practice as well.

When pitted against his fellow second-year students his focus rarely wavered and his speed gave him an edge. He managed to best both Ollivar and Ladislo two falls out of three. The week after that, Kiram even managed to pin Chilla and then Nestor, which resulted in Nestor calling him 'a wily beast' and another exchange of coins between Elezar and Javier.

Then they'd advanced from hand-to-hand combat to duels with wooden swords. Javier made every motion look easy, when he demonstrated the sword stances. In reality Kiram discovered that it was a challenge just to make himself aim his blows at his opponent's body and not his blade. The whole idea of it-that he was teaching himself to drive a sword into another man's heart-appalled him. Kiram couldn't delude himself about the nature of swordplay. Men trained with swords for the single purpose of hardening their bodies and minds to the cruelty of killing.