Ginn Hale - Lord of the White Hell Book One

"True." Javier smiled at him. "So, I wouldn't advise that you do that either."

Master Ignacio shouted out the names of the second- year students who were to take the floor of the arena. They were the worst combatants of the second year: the ones who would face first-year challengers and both Kiram and Nestor were among them.

As Kiram started to go, Javier caught his shoulder and leaned close to his ear.

"Bring them to their knees," he whispered and his breath sent a thrill over Kiram's skin. Then Javier gently shoved Kiram out into the arena.

Kiram's heart hammered in his chest as he took his place inside the salt circle of the dueling ring that Master Ignacio indicated.

"Hold this ring," Master Ignacio told him. "Hold it five rounds. Do not fail me."

"Yfes, sir," Kiram responded but the war master had already turned away. Moments later the first-year combatants took their places. Kiram's first opponent was a stocky young man from the Yllar Academy. He had a blunt little nose and a snorting, aggressive sword style. The first time his blade crashed against Kiram's it sent a jolt through Kiram's wrist.

Fortunately months of training with Javier had honed his defenses. Even utterly flustered, Kiram reflexively sidestepped the Yllar student's second thrust and brought his own blade down across the Yllar student's exposed shoulder.

"Haldiim bitch," the Yllar student snarled. An instant later Kiram deflected another thrust and the Yllar student's sword arm swung wide out. Kiram pounced forward, slamming his blade against the Yllar student's chest. Taken off guard and suddenly off balance, the Yllar student fell to the arena floor.

The judge called the win in Kiram's favor and a cheer went up from the Sagrada Academy stands.

Kiram's entire body trembled with a rush of exhilaration and shock. He hadn't expected to win. Now he would have to fight again. His heart was beating so fast and hard that he thought he could hear his own pulse pounding in his ears.

He faced another Yllar student. This one was faster and he scored a bruising strike across Kiram's left forearm, but the blow cost him his balance. Kiram brought him down with a two fast thrusts into his stomach and chest. The judge held his banner over Kiram and another cheer went up. Kiram's muscles felt molten. The air of the pavilion seemed cool against his skin.

Kiram's third opponent was a first-year student from the Sagrada Academy. Kiram exploited his clumsy footwork, pressing him hard to the right then suddenly shifting his thrusts to the left. The young man finally tripped over his own boots. Kiram dispatched him with a quick strike.

Excitement and fear rolled through Kiram's entire body. His breath came in deep animal gasps. He held the ring. He brought his opponents to their knees. But with each triumph came the realization that he had to do it all again and his next opponent would be better.

By his fifth and final duel, Kiram's body was slick with sweat. His nerves felt tremulous as spider silk; his muscles were soft lead.

A tall Yillar student stepped into the ring. Locks of chestnut colored hair were plastered to his face by sweat. He gazed at Kiram with a blank, almost dead expression. Kiram wondered how long he'd been fighting. He looked like he might collapse any moment.

The judge signaled for them to begin. Kiram tested his opponent's reflexes with quick thrusts. The Yllar student blocked, but just barely. Kiram moved in closer, pressing the attack. He thrust for the Yllar student's stomach, but suddenly something caught his foot. Kiram stumbled backwards. Instantly, the Yllar student struck for Kiram's heart. Kiram blocked the blow with his left forearm. The blade tore into his gauntlet with shattering force.

Kiram fell and rolled just as the Yllar student slammed his blade down again. The sword slashed across Kiram's left shoulder, ripping through the leather scales of his byrnie.

Kiram bounded back up to his feet, gasping for air and shaking. The Yllar student regarded him with that same dull, dead gaze.

Through the din of the roaring crowds in the stands, Kiram suddenly picked out a single voice shouting at him. It was Javier. Kiram couldn't make any of his words out clearly, but he didn't have to. Javier had already warned him, already told him what to do. He had just been too exhausted to remember the one Yllar student Javier had specifically pointed out to him. Ariz Plunado. Kiram felt like an idiot for not recognizing that bland face immediately, but Ariz was simply so forgettable.

Now he circled Kiram slowly, testing Kiram's defenses with quick jabs. All the while his feet darted in, kicking at Kiram's steps. Pain shot through Kiram's left arm as he pulled it in close to his side. Dark red rivulets of blood trickled from under his gauntlet and dribbled down his hand.

"If it hurts you can forfeit." Ariz's voice was as colorless as his expression. His lips hardly moved.

"I-"Before Kiram could make his response, Ariz kicked his ankle hard and lunged for Kiram's chest. Kiram leapt to the side.

Ariz spun on him. "You look like you should see a physician. You're bleeding a lot."

Kiram was expecting the attack this time but it was still brutal. Ariz lunged to strike Kiram's left arm and when Kiram shifted back Ariz landed a hard kick on Kiram's knee. Kiram's leg buckled. He caught himself but hardly had time to block Ariz's thrust for his stomach.

"You look pale, Haldiim." Ariz drove him back toward the blurred white edge of the fencing ring. If he stepped back across it this could all be over. He would be disqualified. His arm hurt so badly he could hardly think. One misstep and it would be over. Javier would be so disappointed. Every bigoted Cadeleonian in the stands would be pleased, though.

Kiram forced himself to attack Ariz again, jabbing hard and fast. His muscles screamed from the effort and when his strength failed him, Ariz sprang after him, lashing out with his blade. Kiram didn't attempt to block the blow. Instead, he spun to the side as if he were dancing. Momentum carried Ariz a step past him. Kiram planted his shoulder in Ariz's back, shoving forward as hard as he could. Ariz skidded forward then spun back. But it was too late. He had crossed through the salt ring.

The judge swung his blue banner up over Kiram. Screams and cheers erupted from the Sagrada Academy stands, but he could barely hear. His own pulse hammered through his ears. His left arm hung like a limp rag and muscle cramps bit into his legs. Slowly, Kiram sank to his knees on the ground. He felt numb, utterly thoughtless. Then he was lying on his back staring up at the blue sky above the pavilion. Three back silhouettes passed over him. Crows, he thought.

A few moments later two of the judges dragged him from the arena back to the Sagrada Academy stands.

"Ybu're going to have a great scar," Nestor proclaimed. From deep inside a haze of duera, Kiram gave him a slow, distracted nod. He had never had cause to drink the painkiller before; how completely it altered his perception surprised him.

Rambling corridors of vending wagons and open tents spread out in every direction around Kiram. Many of the tents served as small theatres. Several brightly-costumed musicians accompanied masked actors, and others played for acrobats as they flipped and twisted. Now and then the odd dancing bear or trained monkey was brought on stage. Once Kiram glimpsed a scantily clad woman holding a large snake around her waist. Then a man in a velvet coat pulled the tent flaps closed.

Between the theater tents, merchants' stalls brimmed with countless diverse goods. Just in the small area Kiram had explored so far there were cut flowers and bolts of cloth, strings of beads, garlands of garlic, powdered saints' bones, horse shoes, red squash, arrowheads, chests of spices, ivory dice and jars of pressed sunflower oil. Men in piebald coats and extravagant hats wandered the open grounds hawking dueling knives, exotic perfumes and decks of blessed cards. Their offers hardly carried over the noise of the surrounding crowds.