Lord of the White Hell book Two lotwh-2 (33 page)

The whirr of the mechanical cure's spinning ribs and the steady hiss and clang of the steam engine created a strange rhythm, like the beat of a mechanical heart that even Donamillo's shadow curse couldn't stop.

"Your friends don't need to suffer, Javier" Fedeles circled them as if he were enjoying an easy stroll. "Give me the white hell and I will release them. You know I don't want to hurt Kiram. Why force me to kill him?"

Javier didn't respond, but a shudder passed through his body. The light around him intensified, illuminating his bare bones.

"I'm a patient man, Javier. I can wait while you burn away like a candle." Fedeles paused only a few feet from Kiram, though he hardly seemed to take notice. Instead he stared at Javier with an expression of rapt avarice. Kiram could almost see Donamillo's want rising up through Fedeles' features. "We both know you won't kill me, big brother. You promised me you would keep me safe."

Javier trembled and Kiram hated Donamillo, not just for taking such a cruel tactic, but because he knew it would work. Javier would let the shajdi burn him hollow before he would kill Fedeles.

Kiram gripped the wires of the second harness. Donamillo was only a foot from him now. He just had to step into the killing darkness of the shadow curse and close the wires around Fedeles' body. Donamillo's spirit would be drawn back into his own body and they would all be saved.

It was the only way.

Kiram didn't think beyond that.

He threw himself onto Fedeles, embracing him and closing the circuit of the harness. Black blades punched through Kiram's body. Fedeles shouted and shook in his arms. Pain ripped deeper into Kiram, but he held his grip and saw the white sparks of the mechanical cure flurry over Fedeles.

They both fell to the floor. It was hot and slick with blood and Kiram knew it was his own. He tried to draw a breath but his lungs only brought a red froth up into his mouth.

He couldn't survive this. The thought hurt him nearly as deeply as his wounds and yet there was light overhead. The shadow curse had fallen back. This agony hadn't been for nothing.

Kiram tried to hold onto Fedeles even then, but strong hands pulled him away.

"Kiri, Kiri. No, please don't bleed. Don't go!"

Kiram recognized Fedeles' voice, devoid of Donamillo's cold tone, crying from a distance.

But it was Javier who held him. Tears rolled down his face and raw grief broke his voice as he spoke Kiram's name again and again.

"It's good." Kiram could hardly form the words. "I saved you.." He wanted to say more, but Javier was fading from his sight just as the pain drained from his ruined body.

He knew he was dying, but he wasn't scared. He had already crossed the Sorrowlands. Whether it was heaven or a shajdi that awaited him, Kiram didn't know, but a soft light fell across him and seemed to draw him deeper into its purity. It felt so simple and beautiful.

Then something caught him, held him. Pale shadows like the hollows of a skull rose from the light. Long bones wreathed in white flames gripped him as if death itself were embracing him and barring him from its respite.

"I won't let you go." Gentle flames licked Kiram's flesh and he knew the voice was Javier's.

K
iram woke to terrible pain. He felt like he was on fire, like someone had cut him open and filled his intestines with burning coals. He wanted to scream from the hurt. Maybe he did.

Someone forced something down his throat, something bitter and cold. He spat and slurred a string of angry obscenities but then a deep sleep took him. He dreamed of crows' wings fluttering over him and then that Alizadeh's cool hand touched his fevered brow. Darkness closed over him.

After that he drifted in and out of consciousness, waking at odd hours and searching his dim surroundings for a familiar face.

At least twice Nestor leaned over him, his pale skin peppered with faded bruises, and assured him that he was safe. Kiram questioned Nestor, but then couldn't remember most of Nestor's replies. Words burned away in Kiram's fevered mind leaving him with only impressions of the conversations: the lingering assurance that Fedeles was better and that Scholar Donamillo had died days ago in his brother's arms. But above all else Kiram remembered what Nestor would not tell him, which was where Javier was.

In Kiram's dreams Javier often lay beside him, whispering foolish jokes or teasing him. But he could never quite see Javier, could never touch him and it frightened Kiram.

When Nestor gently woke him, he was confused, finding himself alone in the bed. Bright morning light burned at Nestor's pale complexion, but Kiram was relieved to see that the worst of his cuts and scratches had healed.

"I'm sorry, but we have to go," Nestor said quietly.

"Where?" Kiram tried to sit up and Nestor caught him in alarm. "Where are we going?" Kiram asked, even as Nestor gently eased him back into the bedding.

"You don't have to get up," Nestor said. "It's just Elezar and me. We're being sent back to Anacleto."

Anacleto seemed years away.

"You'll finally get to have your honeymoon," Kiram whispered.

Nestor smiled at that, but then concern returned to his countenance. "What should I tell your family?"

A pang of loneliness caught Kiram at the thought of his family, but then he remembered Majdi's approval of his gambit for independence.

"Tell them that I'm fine." Kiram decided. "That I love them and that they shouldn't worry."

Nestor nodded. He started to rise from Kiram's bedside but then stopped and looked back down at Kiram. "You're a hero, you know. All of us would have died if you hadn't…I can't imagine how much it hurt." Nestor's gaze dropped to black stitches and ropy scars that cut across Kiram's stomach and chest. "You nearly died."

Kiram wasn't certain that he hadn't died, but he didn't say as much. Nestor seemed to be on the verge of tears as was.

Finally, Nestor said, "I guess I'm just trying to say that I think-no, I know-that you are the best friend any man could ever hope to have."

Kiram grinned at Nestor, as he remembered telling Nestor much the same thing.

"No point in falling in love with me, though," Kiram responded as cavalierly as he could. "You're a married man."

Nestor laughed and then gave Kiram a knowing look. "I doubt I'd last long against your current suitor, in any case." His cheeks flushed red but he went on in a whisper. "I'm not against it, you know.It was strange-I mean at first I couldn't.But I realized that it's not what all those old priests screech on and on about…You're both brave and strong and.I think I can see it now…It's good. Both of you."

Kiram raised his brows, amazed that Nestor could be so frank, decent and compassionate and that he could move Kiram so deeply with such a string of broken phrases.

"Thank you, Nestor."

Nestor shrugged despite his flushed face. "Yeah, well, don't tell Elezar. He'd be pissed if he knew he wasn't fooling me anymore."

Kiram laughed at that and his stitches hurt, but it still felt good. Then Elezar shouted for Nestor and Nestor left Kiram alone. Kiram returned to his dreams, searching them for Javier.

That afternoon, Scholar Blasio removed Kiram's stitches with a quiet exclamation of wonder. He hadn't thought Kiram would survive and yet somehow his mortal injuries had healed faster than the scratch on Blasio's brow.

"They say God blesses the brave." Scholar Blasio touched Kiram's forehead. His hand felt soft and cool against Kiram's hot skin. "I'm inclined to think you're living proof of that."

Kiram wanted to tell the scholar that he was sorry that he'd lost his brother, but at the same time he couldn't bring himself to regret Donamillo's death, only the pain that it had caused.

"Rest now, Kiram," Scholar Blasio told him. Kiram felt sick of resting. He wanted to see Javier. He wanted to get up and find him, and yet a few moments later Kiram slipped back into the darkness of sleep.

When at last his fever broke and his senses returned, he found red scars criss-crossing his belly and chest. He stank of medicinal herbs, but a fresh breeze floated through the room.

Just from the angles of the walls and the long shafts of afternoon light, he knew at once that he was in his old bed in the tower room. But he was far from alone in the chamber.

Well-dressed courtiers conversed at the windows and lounged around the empty hearth. Servants attended them, offering silver goblets and dishes of olives and roasted nuts.

It seemed utterly wrong that so many strangers had invaded the space that had been a private sanctuary for Javier and himself. A year ago no one casually entered Javier's chambers, much less lingered, spilling wine and dropping olive pits on the floor as if it were a cheap room in a tavern.

A sensation like horror welled in Kiram as he noticed that all traces of Javier's wards had been scoured from the floors.

"No," Kiram whispered.

"Are you awake, then?"

Kiram turned to the voice and suddenly realized that a man had been sitting at his bedside watching him. Kiram didn't know if he should feel honored or terrified.

Dressed in violet and gold raiment, Prince Sevanyo looked out of place seated on a wooden school chair. Behind the prince, armed guards and young pages lounged and whispered among themselves.

Kiram pulled himself a little more upright. He tensed, expecting the motion to hurt, but only the slightest ache arose from his scarred body.

"Do you recognize me this time, young Master Kir-Zaki?"

"Yes, Your Highness." Kiram bowed awkwardly in the bed. Had he failed to recognize the prince previously? He prayed that he hadn't been too rude. Something in the prince's amused smile made Kiram think that he'd been more flattered than insulted. Kiram wondered if he'd called out to Javier.

"Very good." The prince nodded.

"Do you know where Lord Tornesal is?" Kiram asked. He searched the faces of the men loitering in the room but none were Javier.

"I do, but before I answer your question I would have you answer one of mine."

"Of course, Your Highness."

"What did you see?" Prince Sevanyo leaned closer to Kiram and spoke in a hushed voice. "When you died, what was there?"

"It was light," Kiram responded. He could see that Prince Sevanyo wanted more then just that. "There was no pain and I wasn't afraid."

"Did you see angels or devils?" The prince gazed at Kiram intently and the afternoon light etched the deep lines of his gaunt face. "A garden of jewels and gold?"

"No, Your Highness." Kiram couldn't bring himself to lie. "There was only light and comfort. and then I think I saw Javier and he brought me back." Kiram met the prince's gaze. "Will you please tell me where he is?"

Prince Sevanyo sighed and leaned back in the simple wooden chair.

"He is presently in the room below this one, being held prisoner until the royal bishop arrives."

"But he didn't possess Fedeles-"

Prince Sevanyo rolled his eyes and raised a gloved hand against Kiram's protests. His rings gleamed in the afternoon light.

"We know that he did nothing to his cousin. The Grunito brothers, War Master Ignacio and Scholar Blasio have all testified as much. And of course Fedeles Quemanor has corroborated their stories." The prince shook his head. "It seems that my young brother, the royal bishop, was far too rash in his judgment. His imprudence nearly allowed a madman to seize control of the dukedom of Rauma as well as the white hell. And it has cost him the lives of his own men."

"But if you know that, then why is Jav-Lord Tornesal being held prisoner?" Kiram flushed at his gaffe but the prince didn't seem to care. He sighed and stretched out his long legs.

"Javier," Prince Sevanyo said, "has proclaimed himself a convert to the Bahiim religion."

Kiram winced at the idea of Javier cavalierly making such an announcement.

"Indeed." Prince Sevanyo sighed. "The royal bishop has demanded that Javier be held prisoner until he arrives here to try him for heresy."

"No." Kiram couldn't help his response.

Prince Sevanyo raised a white brow, and the gesture reminded Kiram painfully of Javier.

"The royal bishop is well within his rights, Master Kir-Zaki. At the very least he will have the pleasure of excommunicating Javier."

"But doesn't Javier deserve some lenience? He did keep Scholar Donamillo from-"

Again the prince stopped Kiram's protest with a wave of his hand.

"Javier has made the royal bishop look like a fool. Worse yet, a fraud who can't recognize a possessed man when he stands before him and who knows less of heaven's designs than a pack of schoolboys and a Haldiim mechanist." Prince Sevanyo shook his head. "Word of the bishop's folly has already spread too far for him to suppress it. Now the royal bishop can only hope that in punishing Javier he can make an example of what happens to those who would embarrass him."

"You can stop him, can't you?" Kiram couldn't help the begging tone in his voice. Prince Sevanyo shook his head.

"Javier is dear to me," the prince admitted. "But when he chose to convert he placed himself firmly in my brother's grasp and well beyond the realm of my protection. Only the king could forgive Javier and he chooses not involve himself in this matter."

Kiram bowed his head into his hands, silently cursing Javier for not having the sense to lie or at least flee. Certainly a single locked door couldn't keep Javier prisoner here. So, why stay?

"Are you strong enough to stand?" the prince asked Kiram.

Kiram looked up and met Prince Sevanyo's cool gaze, unsure as to what could have sparked this new direction of inquiry. The prince glanced to one of his pages and the boy came close.

"I think so." Kiram replied. "I feel better."

Sevanyo nodded. The page offered him a chalice of wine, which the prince took a single drink from before waving the boy aside. He returned his attention to Kiram.

"The royal bishop will be arriving here tomorrow. More than likely he will expect to interview you as well as Javier."

Sick dread clenched Kiram's chest.

"Time is short," Prince Sevanyo said quietly then he raised his voice. "It is good that you are feeling recovered, but I can see that I and all of these fine men of my father's court have kept you awake too long." The prince indicated the surrounding courtiers with a theatrical wave of his gloved hands. "You have been good enough to answer my question and I appreciate it greatly. We should leave you to your rest."

The prince's guards straightened and several of the courtiers turned their cups and dishes over to servants, making ready to depart with the prince. Kiram wondered briefly at how strange it would be to live constantly surrounded by so many other people.

Then Prince Sevanyo surprised him by grasping his hand suddenly.

"Before I go, let us both pray that Javier sees the error of his ways," the prince told him. Something hard slipped from the prince's glove and pressed into Kiram's palm. "Let us hope that down in the room directly below this one, he feels our ardent prayer and comes to his senses."

Kiram nodded. He remained still and silent while the prince bowed his head. Then Prince Sevanyo stood and Kiram closed his hand around the key the prince had slipped to him.

"Take care," Prince Sevanyo told Kiram.

Then he left and the crowd of guards, servants and nobles trailed out after him. For a few minutes Kiram lay still in the bed, mustering his strength and resolve. The royal bishop was on his way, and Kiram had little doubt about which door this key unlocked.

His first steps were awkward but as he moved his strength and balance returned. He packed only what he could easily carry and knew would be needed. Of Javier's things he chose the strongest of his fencing swords as well as the simplest of his clothes and all the money he could lay his hands on.

The golden glow of dusk filtered through the academy as Kiram left his room and crept down the stairs. Smokey, sweet scents of roasting meats and fresh bread wafted up to him and he guessed that most people would be gathered in the dining hall for the evening meal.

Still, Kiram had to crouch in the shadows of the staircase and wait for the night warden to pass on his patrol of the academy halls. As soon as the big man was out of sight Kiram raced to the room where Javier was being held. Cadeleonian holy symbols had been painted on the door and Kiram thought he recognized Holy Father Habalan's writing. He quickly unlocked the door and slipped inside.

Only a sliver of fading sunlight illuminated the barren room. Javier looked up immediately.

Kiram almost cried out at the sight of him. His arms and legs were bound with heavy shackles and he still wore the filthy, bloodstained clothes that he'd been dressed in the night they fought Donamillo. At least a week had passed since he'd last shaved or probably bathed. And yet he still stood straight and proud. He met Kiram's gaze with a quick smile.

"Tell me you brought soap and I'm yours forever," Javier said.

"I brought your sword, a change of clothes, and a key to the door." Kiram forced himself to return Javier's smile, though it made his heart ache seeing Javier like this.

"Better still," Javier replied.

Kiram brought the pack but Javier simply caught him in an awkward embrace of lean muscle and chains. Kiram grasped him in return. They held each other for no more than a moment, but relief and longing made it feel almost endless and unbreakable.