Lord of the White Hell book Two lotwh-2 (29 page)

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."

Fedeles nodded. He stopped in front of a stall and stroked the muzzle of the big black horse inside. For an instant Kiram couldn't believe his eyes.

"Firaj," Fedeles cooed the big gelding's name.

Kiram felt a flush of outrage that Donamillo had taken his horse but an instant later the knowledge brought him a spark of hope. Donamillo would never have chosen to ride Firaj. He cared nothing for the animal but Fedeles loved the old horse. Despite everything some shred of Fedeles had to still be alive inside his possessed body.

"He's an old horse," the captain commented.

"The wisdom of age always defeats the strength of youth, Captain." There was nothing but Donamillo's assurance in the reply. He took Firaj's reins and led him out of the stable.

The captain ordered his men to ready their mounts. He expected the men and their animals to be prepared to ride before the next bell.

Kiram had no time to waste if he was going to be able to make it back to the Grunito house on foot before Fedeles and the royal bishop's men arrived.

A merchant leading two gray mares passed slowly by. As they did so, Kiram stepped out of the stall and started for the stable doors as if he'd just finished settling his own mount like any other traveler. He walked up the narrow aisle past several of the royal bishop's armed soldiers with Fedeles and Firaj only twenty feet ahead of him. His heart pounded so hard that it felt like it was shaking his whole body.

The black shadows stretching from Fedeles' feet curled and spread with a frightening disregard for the angle of the morning light. As Fedeles turned towards a small paddock his shadow fell across Kiram and for an instant Kiram felt a deathly chill and suffocating darkness grip him. He thought he saw Fedeles straighten and almost turn back towards him.

But then Firaj snorted anxiously, pulling him ahead. Fedeles gave a strange laugh and then followed the horse to the paddock without even a glance back.

Kiram was shuddering and clammy when he reached the street. Sunlight felt like a blessing as it touched his face. Far out across the city he spotted crows flying and thought he even heard their voices. Then he realized that the Grunito chapel bells had stopped ringing. Nestor's wedding was underway.

And the perfection of Donamillo's plan took his breath away. During the wedding Javier and every other Hellion in the chapel would be unarmed.

Kiram sprinted for the Grunito house.

B
ar the gates!" Kiram didn't wait for the two footmen to respond.

He threw himself against the heavy wrought iron. The hinges groaned and squealed as if they hadn't been moved in decades.

"Soldiers are riding against the Grunito house!" Kiram shouted. "Help me get these gates closed, damn it!"

A young Cadeleonian footman opened his mouth to question Kiram but then, catching Kiram's expression, he and his companion simply threw their weight against the gates, slamming them closed. It took all three of them to lift the thick crossbars into place and lock them down. Even as heavy as they were Kiram knew the bars wouldn't hold for long, not against two dozen mounted soldiers.

"They're armed so don't try to fight them," Kiram told the two footmen. "But don't open the gates for them either. Make them break them down. We need all the time we can get."

Both the footmen blanched-their eyes were wide and scared now. One of them nodded to Kiram. He left it at that.

His lungs burned and his body was drenched with sweat, but he still raced as fast as he could for the house. Inside he caught a Haldiim servant whom he'd seen directing the household staff.

The woman looked alarmed by the sight of Kiram and even more worried when Kiram grabbed her arm.

"There are mounted soldiers coming to assault the wedding party," Kiram gasped at her.

"I beg your pardon, young Master Kir-Zaki?"

"Soldiers are riding here to attack the wedding party, damn it!" Kiram dragged in a deep breath of air. He didn't have time for this, but he couldn't do it all on his own either. "Someone needs to warn them in the chapel. The Hellions' horses need to be saddled and they'll need weapons. We have fifteen minutes, maybe less."

For an instant the woman looked as if she hadn't understood a single word Kiram had said. Then her eyes locked on his and realization dawned in her expression.

"How many soldiers?" Her face had gone gray but her voice remained calm.

"At least two dozen of the royal bishop's men. They've poisoned their blades and they're riding warhorses. They'll have the gate down in no time."

"Then we will need to be quick," the woman replied. Kiram nodded. His legs already ached and his head still pounded.

The woman called out orders to other members of the staff and suddenly the hall echoed with of shouts of acknowledgment and alarm. Men and women in the Grunito house colors raced to fulfill a flurry of orders: warning the wedding party, readying horses and securing the house for an assault. Wedding garlands were dropped. Trays of tiny cakes and Kir-Zaki sweets were abandoned to the dogs.

"You'd better be right about this," the Haldiim woman warned Kiram and there was something about her tone that made Kiram think briefly of his mother.

"I wish I weren't, but I am right," Kiram responded. "I'll gather the Hellions' saddlebags and their weapons. Can you send a few footmen up to help me?"

She nodded and Kiram bolted up the stairs. He tore through the Hellions' rooms, hurling their half-packed saddlebags to footmen and gathering the best weapons he could lay his hands on.

From his own trunk he only took the few supplies he could shove in his pockets. His bow, quiver and knives were far more important at the moment. He quickly strung his bow and slipped it and his quiver over his shoulders. Then he swept up Javier's saddlebags and sword and sprinted back down the stairs.

He ran for the chapel. He was halfway across the green lawn when a metallic scream wrenched the air. Men shouted threats and obscenities as the clang of hooves pounding down the Grunito gate rang out. Kiram saw terror in the faces of the servants as they ran for the shelter of the main house.

Ahead of him the chapel doors flew open. Elezar and Javier rushed out, both unarmed but standing at the doors as if they could defend the chapel with just the ferocity of their glares. The delicate beauty of their silk clothes struck Kiram as pitiful protection after seeing the heavy leather armor and long swords of the bishop's men.

"Go now!" Javier shouted back into the chapel.

Cadeleonian men and women in silks and jewels burst from the chapel. Kiram wove between them, catching glimpses of familiar faces and briefly meeting the terrified glances of strangers. Lady Grunito carried one of her young sons in her arms and Lord Grunito swept up another of the boys when he tripped. Kiram thought he saw Nestor and Riossa running side by side as he dodged through the chaos of fleeing wedding guests. He lurched out of the way of two beefy choirboys and sped through a gaggle of women in velvet gowns. At last he broke clear of the panicked crowd and reached Javier. He tossed him his sword.

"Well done, Underclassman Kiram." Javier gave him the briefest smile; then his attention returned to the grounds ahead of him.

"Take this." Kiram handed one of Majdi's long fighting knives over to Elezar. "Your long sword is with your horse. They should-"

Timoteo and several footmen sprinted past them, their arms loaded with gold chalices and jewel-studded books. They raced down across the lawn towards the house. Then Atreau and Morisio appeared at the doors.

"Everyone's out," Morisio told Javier. His face looked clammy with sweat and Atreau was pallid as a corpse.

Javier glanced to Kiram. "You were saying something about horses?"

"They should be saddled and ready by now," Kiram informed him. "I had weapons sent to the stables as well."

"Thank God for you, Kiram," Atreau whispered. And even Elezar gave him a nod of acknowledgment.

"There are other soldiers-" Kiram began to explain but Javier cut him off.

"Tell me on the way to the stable."

Then all five of them bolted for the stables. Kiram shouted what he had overheard of the captain's plans as they ran.

"So if we can get past these two dozen soldiers we'll still be trapped between the twelve mounted soldiers at the High Street and pikemen at the city gate." Javier shook his head. "This is a hell of a day to have a hangover."

Atreau simply moaned in response. Morisio gave a strained laugh.

In the stables Kiram found that Verano had been saddled for him to ride and that Nestor had saddled a roan gelding for himself. He looked oddly contradictory tightening a girth while dressed in a resplendent red brocade coat and dusted with gold powder.

"What do you think you're doing?" Elezar demanded of Nestor.

"Fighting beside my fellow Hellions," Nestor responded.

"You should be with your wife-" The rest of Elezar's argument was drowned out by the loud sounds of Atreau vomiting into a feed pail.

"You need all the help you can get," Nestor said. "And you don't have time to argue."

"He's right. The more of us there are the better our chances of taking the city gates." Javier swung up onto Lunaluz's back. He frowned down at Atreau. "Can you do this?"

"Certainly." Atreau shoved his black hair back from his face. Just looking at them Kiram felt sure they wouldn't last in a fight, certainly not against rested professional soldiers. Atreau looked dead already-his skin even more pale than Javier's. And then an idea came to Kiram.

"Javier, you and Atreau should change coats. And Atreau you should ride Morisio's gray stallion."

"What?" Atreau asked.

"Why?" Elezar demanded at the same moment.

Realization lit Nestor's face. "Brilliant! Atreau and Javier look enough alike that they could be mistaken for each other at a glance."

"Right," Kiram said. "When we reach the High Street Atreau and Morisio will ride for the dock. At the fourth pier you'll find a ship called the Red Witch. It's my brother's ship. Tell them Kiram sent you and he will see that you're safe."

"So we'll be drawing off the riders from the High Street?" Morisio asked.

"They'll have to split their numbers to pursue two parties," Kiram responded.

"I don't like Atreau posing as me." The concern in Javier's voice was obvious to them all.

"Honestly, it'll do your reputation with the ladies some good," Atreau responded with a wan smile, then swung up onto Morisio's light gray stallion. "I want to do it, Javier. I may be in no shape to fight but I can stay on a horse's back even in my sleep. I can be sick on a ship just as well as I can be sick on the road. And this way there will be fewer men after you when you take the city gates."

"I'll make sure he's safe," Morisio added.

They didn't have time to argue, Javier had to know that. He didn't look happy but he exchanged his formal black and silver coat for Atreau's amber one.

"All right." Javier's spoke coolly, his expression hard. "We go into the woods and draw the bishop's men from the front gate. Once they're amidst the trees, we circle back and make for the street."

Suddenly the crashing noise in the distance went silent. The front gate of the Grunito house had fallen.

There were no questions; they simply rode as Javier commanded, racing to reach the wooded cover of the Grunitos' private hunting grounds.

Kiram's pulse surged as the thunder of the horses charging from behind rolled over him. A rider shouted for them to halt and invoked the name of the royal bishop. Javier responded with an obscene gesture and then they all swept into the shadows of the woods.

Only a few yards in, Javier reined Lunaluz off the dirt path and into the thickest trees. Kiram and the rest of the Hellions followed. First Atreau and then Morisio surged past Kiram. The terrifing awareness that he was falling behind gripped him. Branches brushed past his face as he veered between trees. Wild birds startled into flight and still he knew he wasn't riding fast enough. Already he'd lost sight of Javier. Then Nestor swept in beside him.

"I think we've got them all in the woods now!" Nestor shouted over the thunder of horses' hooves.

A glance back assured Kiram that they had. A wall of men in leather armor riding huge warhorses charged down upon them. Sunlight flashed on the naked blades of their swords.

Kiram clenched his reins and despite his fear of falling he urged his mount ahead faster.

Behind him the royal bishop's men fanned out as the density of trees forced them apart. Ahead Kiram glimpsed a white stallion flashing between the dark trunks of the old oaks.

"Right!" Elezar shouted, his eyes on Nestor. Kiram realized that they had to break clear of the bishop's men now and make for the gate.

Kiram turned his mount to the right, demanding all of the horse's speed for the charge out of the woods. Beneath him, Verano responded with more power than Kiram was prepared for. He nearly slipped from his seat as they suddenly catapulted ahead. Branches slapped his arms and legs. His heart hammered in his throat. The dark shadows of trees blurred as Kiram flashed past them.

And then he was in the open, racing across Lady Grunito's gardens, then out past the ruined front gate and into the open street. Javier and Atreau rode nearly abreast. Morisio charged just behind them. Nestor rode only a few feet to Kiram's right and Elezar came up on his left.

Ahead of them all on High Street, twelve mounted soldiers formed a dark, still line in the midst of bustling carts and carriages.

In an instant they charged Javier and Atreau. Men and women on the street cried out. Cart drivers veered out of the way as best they could. The street became a riot and in the wave of panic, Atreau and Morisio both drove their mounts left towards the docks while Javier rode right into the busy road leading to the city gate.

Kiram followed Javier, as did Nestor and Elezar. Glancing back Kiram saw two of the bishop's men light out after Atreau and Morisio but the rest followed Kiram in his pursuit of Javier.

Ahead of him, Kiram could see why so few of the soldiers had mistaken Atreau for Javier. Mounted on Lunaluz, Javier seemed to fly through the crowded street. They soared over a goat cart as if lifted by magic. They veered and bounded through the press of carriages and street vendors like light skipping across a lake. Even terrified as they were, bystanders stared in awe as Javier passed them. No one else could have been the lord of the white hell.

Kiram's own passage was in no way so easy or majestic. Peddlers and beggars seemed to veer out at him. Wine barrels and oxen appeared in the middle of his path. It took all of his concentration to keep Verano from charging straight into a Mirogoth man and his dog.

Kiram could hear the bishop's men gaining ground behind him and suddenly he remembered the race through Zancoda. He'd done this before, he told himself. He could do it again.

But the women up on the balconies of the buildings weren't throwing down flowers but instead emptying chamber pots, and the riders behind Kiram weren't just after some ribbon. The chaos choking the street seemed impossible to navigate.

Then up ahead of him Kiram saw an opening. He charged forward and found a lane that must have opened in Javier's wake. Kiram thought he could see Nestor's and Elezar's brilliant brocade coats shining ahead of him.

Then a tiny form darted out into the road-a little girl, running for her mother across the street. Kiram jerked Verano back and nearly flew off the horse. He dug into his saddle as Verano turned aside and tossed his head. He steeled himself for a blow from the soldiers pursuing him.

But the bishop's men took no pause. They sped past Kiram into the open road. The little girl froze in terror and then fell beneath the soldiers' horses. Her single pathetic cry crushed to silence in a moment.

Kiram jerked his eyes away from the bloody dress and broken limbs. He heard a woman screaming but couldn't bring himself to look at her. The cold, terrible reality of just what these men would do rushed over Kiram.

At Kiram's urging, Verano leapt clear of the child's remains and surged after the bishop's men. One of them bore down on Elezar and a second shot after Nestor. The remaining eight tore after Javier. Kiram only wondered briefly why he had been of no interest to them. The bishop's men were expecting to hunt down well-dressed Cadeleonian noblemen fleeing from a wedding, not some Haldiim boy wearing traveler's leathers. He was nothing to them, just as that child had been.