Lord of the White Hell, Book 1 by Ginn Hale

The brown coat he'd worn for the trip over the mountains felt sweltering hot now and smelled of his sweat. The dark wood radiated a late afternoon heat. Sunlight streamed in through the red carriage curtains, filling the space with a warm glow. The carriage struck another bump and Kiram shoved the stack of rocking crates back against the carriage wall.

Fortunately the school permitted only one carriage per student. If his parents had been allowed to, they would have sent another half-dozen carriages filled with praise dancers and red-dyed doves to announce their youngest son's arrival. Kiram's father had already pointed out the spot where he thought Kiram's own statue would one day stand. A statue of the man stood in the Royal Park. Lif-Harun's formulas had altered the very heavens. No full-blooded Haldiim had ever before been accepted into the school, and a century had passed since the half- blood Yassin Lif-Harun studied there. Those heavy, oily pieces of metal had won Kiram the right to attend Academy Sagrada. The driver had charged Kiram's mother twice the normal fare because of the weight, but she had been proud to pay it. Many heavier crates groaned against the ropes securing them to the roof of the carriage. Tools and crated machine parts filled most of the space in the carriage. Kiram had packed very little clothing and only a few of his favorite books. He retrieved the book, straightened his notes, and carefully wrapped the book in the remains of his parchment and tucked it into the wide pocket of his new Cadeleonian wool coat.

Dozens of strips of paper protruded from between the pages, displaying Kiram's notes and diagrams. His book, Modern Mechanism, lay on the carriage floor. He tried to smooth it with his hand, feeling the tight spirals spring back as his fingers brushed over them.

His curly blonde hair was always a wild mess after he had slept on it. He frowned at the creased front of his white linen shirt and tucked a loose edge back into his dark pants. Kiram woke as the carriage jolted against the rough cobblestones of the country road.Īfter six days of sleepless travel he couldn't believe that he had dozed off today of all days.

Lord of the White Hell, Book 1 by Ginn Hale