Lord of the White Hell book Two lotwh-2 (5 page)

"Language, Elezar." Master Ignacio strode towards them. Javier walked a step behind the war master, his eyes fixed on Kiram with such intensity that Kiram felt his face flushing.

"Pardon, Master," Elezar said quickly then he returned his attention to Kiram. "You should have called for help."

"I will next time."

"There won't be a next time." Javier stopped directly beside Kiram. "This isn't going to happen again."

"The groundsmen will set traps tomorrow morning," Master Ignacio said. "If the creature returns, we'll have it. In the meantime, you will all keep your rides to the roads and the stable grounds."

The Hellions all agreed and then bid the war master goodnight. An air of boisterous relief suffused them as they ascended the stairs to their rooms. Atreau teased Kiram and Morisio playfully declared that the bear was some jealous rival mechanist in a fur coat. They laughed and reminded each other about the crow that Javier had picked out from the pitch black sky and followed to Kiram's body.

"It probably thought Kiram was carrion," Genimo said.

"He would have been if we hadn't gotten there when we did," another Hellion commented and then he gave Kiram a wide grin. All of them basked in the glory of their rescue, except Javier, who had gone unusually quiet.

On the way up, Kiram spotted more than one student peeking out of a doorway to spy on the returning Hellions. By morning everyone in the entire academy would probably know the story and Kiram would have to try and describe some encounter with a bear. He tried to think of anything he'd read about the beasts. He recalled some mention of their strong musky odor and the fact that they often rose up onto their hind legs and walked like men. He hoped that would be enough to satisfy the curiosity of his classmates.

Once he and Javier climbed the last flight of stairs to their shared room, Kiram shed his filthy coat and stripped off his jacket and shirt. He needed a bath, badly. Javier threw his own coat over his chair. He studied Kiram's bare chest, then stepped closer and caught Kiram's shoulders in a firm grip. "From now on I am going with you when you go to that work shed."

"You'll be bored out of your mind, hanging around in there. And anyway I'm sure this won't happen.." Kiram trailed off as he realized that he had no reason to assume that the shadow curse would not attack him again if he were to repair the steam engine. The idea suddenly terrified him and for one cowardly moment he considered giving up the engine up altogether.

Was he really willing to risk his life-to face that terrible, killing darkness-just for the sake of two Cadeleonian noblemen?

He only had to glance to Javier to know his answer. He couldn't give up. Though he harbored no hope that he and Javier could share their lives as lovers, he wouldn't allow his friends to fall to that curse. Now that he had felt it-seen it tearing through living flesh-he couldn't abandon Javier to it and still think himself a decent man.

"I won't let you be alone down there. You were nearly dead when I found you. You were like ice in my arms." Suddenly he pulled Kiram close. They embraced fiercely, clutching one another. Kiram dug his hands into Javier's shirt and pressed himself so close that he could feel Javier's heart beating against his own chest. Javier whispered, "Don't go without me."

"I won't. I promise" Kiram felt the desperate tension drain from Javier's grip. His hands moved slowly up and down Kiram's back and he, too, relaxed. He would never have thought he could take so much comfort in such a simple touch. Kiram rested his head against Javier's shoulder, closed his eyes, and allowed himself to forget everything but the warmth of Javier's skin, the comfort of his touch.

Kiram didn't want to deny himself this contentment any longer. He wanted Javier and it didn't matter if he would later suffer for it.

Kiram lifted his head to speak but then caught sight of the red stain his brow had left on Javier's white shirt. His face had to be a mess. A quick glance at his hands assured him that they were still spattered with blood and gore. Mortification flooded Kiram.

"I have to take a bath."

Javier didn't release him, but drew back just enough to search Kiram's face. Immediately, Kiram felt a difference in Javier's stance. In an almost formal motion, Javier straightened and stepped back. "Will you need help tending your leg?"

"No, I think I'll be fine." Kiram tried to convey some of his warmth in his voice but Javier didn't seem to notice. He sat on the edge of his bed and unlaced his riding boots. Kiram felt dismayed by how easily he'd given up. He seemed so tired, almost beaten down, as he tossed his boots aside.

Javier said, "You aren't getting any cleaner standing there, are you?"

Kiram withdrew to the bath.

He washed quickly, pausing briefly to inspect the thin gash beneath the bandages engulfing his calf. He favored his left shoulder but didn't linger on it. Instead he focused on Javier. The sensation of Javier's hands on his skin, as well as the pleasure and calm he'd felt leaning into Javier's shoulder, played again and again in his mind. He held it up against the fear he'd felt earlier and allowed it to build until only longing remained with him.

Once he'd washed, Kiram pulled his thin prayer shirt over his head and bolted out of the bathroom. Javier had already retired to his bed and only one lamp remained burning. Momentary doubt gripped Kiram, but he had come so close to losing his life today that the prospect of mere rejection did not seem so great a risk.

He could tell that Javier wasn't asleep. His eyes were closed but his breathing had yet to slow into the deep rhythm of unconsciousness. Kiram crept to Javier's bedside. His right calf was too tender to allow him to drop to both knees, so instead he knelt on one and gently touched Javier's shoulder. Javier opened his eyes and, after taking in Kiram's unexpected posture, raised a brow. "What are you doing?"

"I'm kneeling and asking you to let me into your bed."

"Do you know what you're saying?" The pupils of Javier's dark eyes flared wide. He sat up and the blankets fell back from his naked body. Calixto's medallion shone lustrous and golden against his muscular, pale chest as it always did.

"Yes." Kiram could feel a hot flush rising across his skin as Javier's gaze moved over him.

"Take off the nightshirt," Javier commanded.

Kiram pulled the thin cotton shift up over his head and then let it fall to the floor. Javier stared at his exposed body and then threw the blankets back. "Come."

Kiram climbed into the bed immediately and Javier pulled the blankets back around them both. They kissed with ferocious need. Kiram let his hands drift low across Javier's sharp hips and curve over his thigh. Javier gasped against his lips as Kiram caressed him.

Javier's hands trembled as he sought Kiram's naked body. Tenderly at first and then with a desperate strength, they took pleasure in the touch and taste of one another. With every stroke a driving rhythm built in the friction of skin, hands and lips, until at last it broke in the hot spill of semen and Javier's breathless moan against the curve of Kiram's neck.

They both lay back, exhausted and tangled in each other's arms. Kiram thought he felt Javier's lips against his cheek and then he fell into a deep sleep.

F
aint morning light illuminated the bruises mottling Kiram's shoulder. Pain flared through his muscles as he rolled his arm experimentally. He'd run harder last night than he'd ever moved in his life and now his entire body ached. Fortunately, the previous months of tournament training had familiarized Kiram with his own discomfort enough that he could classify his injuries as nothing more than strains and scratches.

Javier knelt beside the bed and inspected the cut on Kiram's calf, his touch gentle but not tentative. "It doesn't look bad but you're definitely going to have another scar."

"Mother will be thrilled."

"By spring it will have faded and she'll be happy just to see you." Javier smiled as he rebandaged Kiram's leg. "The mark on your cheek has already faded rather handsomely."

Kiram laughed at the idea of any scar being handsome. It was such a Cadeleonian thought. Though Javier was right about it fading. The scar Genimo had left on his cheek was little more than a faint crescent. Only when his face colored with either rage or desire did it to stand out noticeably. However, the dueling scar that glared up from his forearm remained red and tender.

Still, none of his few scars could rival the brand on Javier's shoulder, nor the big white stroke that bisected Elezar's thigh. Certainly by the standards of the Hellions his scars might be handsome.

He doubted that relative comparison would offer his mother much consolation, but then he realized that it didn't really matter. He wasn't a child to be kept safe in her candy kitchen any longer, though only he and Alizadeh seemed capable of recognizing that.

"So," Javier said softly. "How are you this morning?"

"Sore, but really happy just to be here," Kiram admitted. Javier nodded slowly, thoughtfully. Kiram felt the tension in his fingers change just slightly. He extended his hand along the curve of Kiram's knee with cautious intent, stroking him softly, gentling him as he would have coaxed a nervous young stallion.

"I'm glad that you're here as well," Javier said. "I hope you'll stay with me."

Kiram knew that Javier was talking about more than just this morning but he didn't allow himself to think beyond his present happiness. Nothing had changed. Javier was still a Cadeleonian and a nobleman who one day might very well abandon Kiram for a mistress or a wife. But after last night, Kiram was no longer willing to sacrifice the pleasure of the moment for fear of a loss the future might bring. Not when there was a good chance that he wouldn't live long enough to see it come about.

Desire welled up in him as Javier's long fingers traced the tender hollow of his knee and then slowly followed the muscles of his thigh. Kiram felt his cheeks growing hot and he knew that the crescent scar on his cheek probably stood out like a pale moon. Kiram pulled the blankets back. "We have time before first bell."

Kiram lingered longer and worked Javier more skillfully than the previous night. In the pale morning light he reveled in the details of Javier, both the vulnerability of his arched, naked body and the power of his hard, tensed muscles. He loved the feel of Javier's strong hands, his tender lips and the prickle of his dark stubble. Kiram wanted more but restrained himself. The academy was not the place for either of them to be so exposed nor did the morning offer them much time.

As it was they had to rush, washing together in the tub, and then throwing their clothes on while racing down the stairs to get down to breakfast before the holy father and scholars arrived.

After gulping down sausages and oatcakes Kiram ventured out to his work shed. Both Javier and Nestor joined him. The light of day offered Kiram no illusion as to the state of his engine. The casings were cracked, the pistons bent and broken. The smell of spilled oil hung in the cold air and a blood stain colored the floor. Kiram didn't know if it was his own blood or Fedeles'. A tight knot of anxiety clenched through Kiram's chest and again he suppressed the urge to abandon the engine.

"Anything we can help with?" Nestor asked.

Kiram fought back his fear. He stole a glance to Javier and took comfort in the brief, salacious smile he received. Kiram studied the completed, ruined engine one last time, then said, "You can help me dismantle it. Most of the parts will have to be newly forged, so the metal will need to be melted down before being recast."

Javier and Nestor made surprisingly quick work of labor that would have exhausted Kiram alone. Kiram laughed at the beaten, deformed nuts that Nestor deemed to have a nice girlish shape and the bolts he referred to as 'big fellows'.

After they finished hauling the scrap to the blacksmith, who grumbled at the disappointment of having his own work destroyed as well, Javier and Nestor returned to their classes. Kiram took advantage of the fact that he'd been excused from his morning classes to visit Scholar Donamillo in the infirmary.

Happily, Donamillo immediately suggested that Kiram should continue his mechanical work in the infirmary storage space near Donamillo's own mechanical cures.

"It's a bit of a mess at the moment," Donamillo apologized, but Kiram felt elated at the prospect of escaping his cold, isolated work shed. Kiram set to work at once clearing the cluttered area.

Scholar Donamillo tried to assure Kiram that he didn't have to put himself out while he was still so weak from last night's attack, but Kiram would have none of it.

"I'm more than happy to do it since I have the morning free."

Scholar Donamillo reluctantly agreed, though he hovered close while Kiram dragged out heaps of papers and wooden crates filled with aged tomes and arcane talismans. Kiram imagined that the scholar's private rooms must be packed with medical devices and assorted books overflowing their shelves and piling in small towers from the floor.

Kiram hefted a stack of thin, leather-bound books that had been buried under a case of surgical clamps. One of the books caught Kiram's attention immediately, in that it was bound as many old Haldiim texts used to be, along the top and not the left.

"Is this Haldiim?" Kiram wiped the dust off the tattered book cover, exposing stained leather and small decorative stitching.

"Yes." The scholar's thin lips curved up in a faint smile. He removed the volume and gently leafed through its pages. Kiram caught glimpses of hand drawn diagrams and scribbled notes. Suddenly, with a rush of amazement, Kiram recognized one of the images.

"That's Yassin's Constellation of the Dog." Awe softened Kiram's voice to a whisper.

"It is."

"Then, this is Yassin's notebook?" Kiram desperately desired to hold the book in his own hands and read through it.

"One of the few remaining. I found it when I was a student. Holy Father Habalan was scouring all heretical writings from the library. I couldn't bear to see it destroyed so I stole it from his rooms. I should see that it finds a safer home than this." Scholar Donamillo carefully tucked the small book into his coat pocket.

As he watched the book disappear, disappointment cut through Kiram. "May I-"

"Scholar," a student called from the wide doorway of the infirmary. Kiram saw that it was Genimo. "I've brought more needles up from the smith."

"Very good." Scholar Donamillo went and took the little wooden boxes.

Genimo glanced to Kiram. "Here to visit Fedeles?"

Kiram hadn't realized that Fedeles was with them in the infirmary. A terrible instinctive fear shot through him. Blood drained from his face and he couldn't bring himself to speak. The shadows in the room seemed suddenly sinister and deep.

"Is he still sleeping?" Genimo didn't seem to notice Kiram's choked silence. He walked to a bed near the far wall where a silent form lay under thick blankets. "Fedeles, I know you're awake. Why so quiet?"

The figure burrowed deeper under the bedclothes as if trying to hide. When Genimo peeled the covering back, Fedeles issued a pathetic animal whimper and curled into a ball. Kiram's fear dissipated in the face of sympathy.

"Let him alone." Kiram took the blanket from Genimo and laid it back down over Fedeles. He wasn't to blame for the curse and he had suffered far more than Kiram because of it.

Genimo rolled his eyes. "Going to sing him a lullaby too?"

"Do you have to be an utter ass at all times?" Kiram snapped. Genimo scowled at him but appeared to have no retort.

Kiram turned his attention back to Fedeles. Despite his leering grin, his face was streaked with tears. When he lifted his hand to wipe at his eyes Kiram caught sight of fresh stitches running along his wrist.

Kiram gently caught his hand. "When did this happen?"

"Firaj. Firaj. Run away. I'm bad, bad, bad. I can't stop it." Fedeles' expression contorted and then he began to recite the names of other horses, urging each of them to run away.

"He cut himself." Genimo scowled at Fedeles. "Last night with one of my dueling knives. Scholar Donamillo sewed him up quickly enough."

"Does Javier know?" Kiram asked. Fedeles had gone quiet, shoving his face down into the mattress.

"Of course he knows. He told me to keep it in our circle. So don't go blabbing, all right?"

"Who would I tell?"

Genimo shrugged as if to imply that Kiram's motivations were some incomprehensible mystery, then went to help Scholar Donamillo file away the tomes that Kiram had cleared out from beside the mechanical cures. Part of Kiram wanted to join them, in hopes of getting another chance at Yassin's notebook, but ogling ancient equations seemed less important than comforting Fedeles right now. He'd have other chances at Scholar Donamillo's library while he was rebuilding the engine.

Very gently, Kiram smoothed Fedeles' hair back from his face. Fedeles looked up at him with an expression of mute sorrow.

"I know you aren't to blame," Kiram quietly told him.

Fedeles relaxed, leaning into Kiram's touch in the same way that Firaj did when he wanted reassurance.

Kiram said, "It's going to be all right, I promise. I'll find a way to help you."

Fedeles closed his eyes and soon he fell asleep. In rare moments of peace such as this, Kiram could see how closely Fedeles resembled Javier. He wondered what Fedeles had been like before the curse had twisted his mind. Then he wondered what might be left of him if he were ever to be freed of it.

Kiram caught himself then. It would not be a matter of if Fedeles were freed but when. His engine might have been broken but it would be rebuilt. He also reassured himself that Alizadeh was gleaning precious information through Kiram's weekly ritual of lighting his lotus medallion. Perhaps last night's attack had even provided Alizadeh with a vital clue. That thought alone reassured him.

The bells rang and Kiram pulled the blankets over Fedeles' exposed shoulder before heading towards the stables for his riding class. Master Ignacio had not excused him from his lessons. Kiram supposed a man would have to be dead to have the war master give him a day off.

His trip was cut short by Javier, who caught him outside the infirmary.

"You forgot your riding gloves." Javier held them up but didn't proffer them to Kiram. Instead he glanced to the infirmary doors. "Did you see Fedeles?" Javier asked and Kiram heard the second, unasked question in his tone.

"Yes, I told him what happened wasn't his fault. I think that helped him. He's sleeping now."

The anxious tension seemed to melt from Javier. "Thank you"

"It's the truth."

"I know but that's a hard thing to remember after last night."

"Last night wasn't all bad." Kiram took his gloves from Javier's hand. He allowed his fingertips to brush across Javier's bare palm, which elicited a smooth, sensual smile.

"Not bad at all," Javier agreed.

They walked together to the stables. They didn't hold hands or even stand too close but Kiram felt warmth and intimacy in Javier's lingering gaze. They discussed a translation of a Yuan prince's travel diary that Javier had just discovered in the library and thought Kiram would find amusing.

"The man's supposed to be a worldly authority but just from his descriptions of Anacleto and Rauma you can tell he's never left Yuan. It's hilarious." Javier tossed Kiram his riding gloves in an easy manner. "He says that the Cadeleonian men have a ritual of brotherhood, wherein they take hammers to each other's poorly protected bodies and after much pounding choose the one man left standing to be the leader of their now nearly crippled group."

"So, he met Elezar, then?"

"Maybe one of his ancestors," Javier replied. "The thing dates back a hundred years or so."

"Does he mention the Haldiim?"

"Oh yes, he does your people the honor of many an inaccurate and even impossible depiction. Did you know that you are all born as women and only develop into men when fed red meat boiled in goats' milk?"

"Really?" Kiram snorted.

"He includes a recipe."

"I have to read this."

"I'll bring it up to our room. We can go through it together tonight," Javier said, then added, "Good luck riding."

Javier left Kiram feeling so giddy at the prospect of being together in their room again that he nearly forgot that he and Firaj needed to arrive at the arena punctually or face Master Ignacio's wrath.

Throughout the riding lesson, fellow second-year students who caught Kiram's eye gave him short approving nods. He heard Ollivar whisper something about facing down a bear to two other boys. Master Ignacio ordered them to silence and glared at Kiram. Oddly the master's scowling countenance no longer frightened him. Last night he had faced something so truly terrifying that no scholar, no matter how disapproving or stern, could compare. The shadow curse had been like a nightmare come to life, insubstantial and murderous at once: darkness that killed with the ease of a passing shadow.

Master Ignacio was a man-strong and brutal-but no more than that. His very physicality implied weakness of some kind. He could be exhausted; he could be injured. Studying him now, all his snarls and shouts, Kiram thought that a skilled swordsman would be wise to exploit the war master's quick temper to draw him out, make him overreach.