The Black God's War (4 page)

A shame my body isn’t what it used to be
, he thought, tasting more blood in his mouth.

Many of the guards closed their eyes in prayer. Others had already turned toward the massive archway of the white palace. It must have been a welcome sight to them after the long ceremony and parade. Unfortunately, because the steps were so wide, Jurg was not nearly as close as he’d hoped to be when he approached the Haizzem. Jurg could burst past the soldiers’ line, but the blond would be ready to intercept him. A fellow Andaran.

So be it
.

As the flock prayed in silence, the savior looked up and locked eyes with Jurg. If the stories about the Haizzem’s spiritual powers were true, the boy might already know why he’d come.

Caio gave the sun a melancholy glance.
I’m not ready for this day to end
.

He turned to face an elderly woman and felt the gods’ love coursing through his heart.

“My knees,” she pleaded as she grabbed his
cremos
robe.

“I know, love.”

He quickly kissed his red and black fingers and touched her knees.
Your miracle please, Mya
. Caio sensed that she would be healed of her arthritis within days. The woman stumbled back with an empty look and a young man pushed his way ahead of the devotees, into her place.

After Caio blessed a few more, his protector and friend Ilario whispered in his ear the words he’d been dreading.

“It’s time to go, my Haizzem. The sun is setting.”

Caio would have to leave the holy city tomorrow. To join his father’s war.

Ilario wasted no time, organizing the soldiers in a wide arc and putting them between the people and their Haizzem. Caio ran forward and pushed against the soldiers’ line, reaching with outstretched fingers to the crowd. They rushed toward him, grabbing at his hands and sleeves. The soldiers stood their ground, and Ilario pulled back on Caio’s robe.

Caio held his ground. “You’ll have to pull me away if you want me to go.”

Ilario’s powerful arms wrapped around Caio’s waist. Caio decided not to fight him. His friend pulled him backward, up two more steps.

“Stop.” Caio raised his left hand. “I’ll pray with them once more.”

Ilario stood aside.

Caio turned to the crowd. He kissed the fingers of his left hand, then his right. He raised his hands high, and the crowd dropped to its knees. Most of them put their heads to the ground in prostration. Caio scanned not only the crowd, but also their receptive hearts and minds. “During my absence, you must maintain your faith and devotion to the gods of Lux Lucis.”

The crowd responded in unison: “Havah ilz avah Haizzem!”

During the moment of silence that followed, a ragged figure emerged from the crowd and looked up at Caio. Aggression gleamed from his reddened eyes, though Caio sensed that the poor man felt only sorrow. They looked at each other fearfully and Caio tried to impart his grace to the foreigner through his glance. The man shook his head violently, and Caio’s heart felt stabbed by what was about to transpire. He knew if the man had focused on his gaze a moment longer, he would have received all he came for; instead the blond Andaran man began barreling toward him.

The foreigner slammed into a praying soldier with his bear-like shoulders and arms, knocking the Rezzian onto his back. The next closest soldier threw himself at the man’s legs, but the Andaran jumped over him with a hoarse yell. The foreigner sprung onto the step below Ilario and Caio.

The crowd looked up at the scene and pressed backward with shock as Ilario drew his sword, stepped forward, and yelled at the onrushing man, “Stop!”

The Andaran kept coming. He released a tormented cry and drove straight for Ilario.

No, Lord!
Caio beseeched his vine-covered patron, The Lord of The Book of Time. All movement, save his own, slowed to a crawl. Caio surged forward and pulled back on Ilario’s shoulder.

“He doesn’t intend to hurt me!” Caio slipped between the two, and the normal flow of time resumed.

The Andaran fell down on his knees, grabbed Caio’s revered feet, and began to wail.

Caio yelled to his protectors as they sped toward him, “Let him be! He means me no harm.” He held the man’s head and caressed his matted hair.

The crowd continued scattering away. Someone screamed that the foreigner carried the new plague.

Ilario held his sword high, ready to strike. “You don't need to help him.”

“His disease cannot harm me,” Caio said.

Ilario took three steps back and sheathed his blade. He closed his lips and looked around at the crowd while Caio consoled the sobbing foreigner.

Caio searched the man’s emotions and felt his concern for his family. He spoke in the man’s native tongue, “Feel the goddess Mya's cool grace, my brother. Receive her healing warmth in your heart.” He squatted and leaned over to kiss the back of the man's head and his cheeks. He tasted the man’s sweat and tears.

Then she appeared.

The goddess Mya revealed herself to Caio alone. Her short dress made of lush vines left her shoulders and knees bare and elegant. Her soft brown hair gathered behind her head, tied loosely enough for some to hang neatly around the sides of her face. She sat down on the other side of the sick man and stroked his back to comfort him, looking down with a countenance like a calm lake.

The man's body writhed with spasms. He cried and pleaded in Andaran, “Help me. Heal me or make the suffering go away. I’ve come so far.”

“I know you have.” Caio leaned closer and whispered in the man’s ear, with an arm around his shoulder, “She will help you, if you rest in her grace. Everything else will take care of itself.”

The man stopped shaking. His entire body surrendered and relaxed on the pale clay. He rolled onto his side and showed Caio his blissful face. His arm beneath his body reached up to the sky with palm upturned, then fell flat against the ground.

Mya
, why?

The goddess's eyes flashed toward her beloved before returning to their downward gaze.

Caio cradled the dying man’s head in his hands and looked into his faraway eyes. “She blesses you. She wants your suffering to end. She will protect you in the afterlife.”

Though I wish she would save you, and return you to your family.

The attention of the hushed crowd focused on Caio as he held the dying man.

The peeling skin on the man’s face glowed as his pale lips stretched gleefully. He whispered, “I never believed in your gods … Not once in my life.”

The foreigner’s eyelids closed.

Ilario stepped forward and rested his strong hands on Caio's shoulders. “Let’s go. You need to rest.”

Caio stood up and looked at the crowd with sadness. He raised his hands as the guards reassembled in their formation. Those nearest to him prostrated again and the rest followed, all of them moving downward in a gentle wave.

The dead man’s body lay abandoned on the wide step. Caio struggled to put the man’s family out of his mind.

“I will return soon, after our victory. The gods of Lux Lucis watch over you.” Caio put his hands together prayerfully and a warm tranquility took root amongst the faithful. They chanted in unison:

“Havah ilz avah Haizzem!”

“Havah ilz avah Haizzem!”

“Havah ilz avah Haizzem!”

Chapter 4: The Remonstrations of Achilles

Two days later.

ILARIO’S HORSE CRESTED THE DRY HILL with Caio beside him, giving them their best view of the reinforcements since they had set off from Remaes the day after the Dux Spiritus ceremony. Elite spear throwers from Satrina and light cavalry from Lympia marched with the legions of heavy infantry from the holy city. The organized procession stretched westward past the distant horizon, ten soldiers wide and thousands of soldiers long.

“Isn’t your army impressive?” Ilario asked.

Caio glanced in Ilario’s direction with a grin. “You’re still trying to get me used to the ‘my army’ concept?”

“As usual, my Haizzem, you’ve read my mind.” Ilario put his heel to his stallion and they started down the hill. Below, the Neda River ambled across the road, flanked by desert trees.

Caio leaned toward Ilario. “It will be a long time before my father’s boots fit me, if they ever do.”

“You should keep an open mind. Maybe they will soon.”

“Only in my nightmares.” Caio winked. “At least I’m blessed to have good company with me.”

“We need to have a talk.” Ilario pointed to the river. “Let’s have a rest by that cluster of trees?”

Caio glanced up at the red sun. “Even Lord Galleazzo would welcome the shade.”

They dismounted on the soft earth by the riverbank, under the cover of long-limbed trees. Ilario grabbed two waterskins off his dark chestnut steed and waited for the warpriests to lead their mounts to drink. The percussive chirping of the insects came as a welcome change from the clamor of the marching army. Ilario inhaled deep breaths to savor the refreshing air.

More than a dozen horse-pulled water wagons rolled up to the river. The servants and slaves rushed around, refilling the urns. Hundreds of soldiers milled about, many of them heading to the river to drink and bathe. Many more gathered around their Haizzem to receive his blessing.

Ilario stood beside Caio and scrutinized each man who approached him. At least they were quick about walking up to him, bowing, and moving on after Caio touched their foreheads. One man held up the line to ask Caio to pray for his family, but no one lingered too long. Eventually, the crowd dispersed.

“Shall we?” Ilario started for the grove he’d spotted earlier.

“What is it you want to talk to me about, brother?”

“Can you tell? What do you sense from me?” Ilario asked.

“I can feel your sense of responsibility, not only to me, but also to our kingdom. You probably want me to embrace my duty as Dux Spiritus.”

Right again.
“I’ve watched you for nearly ten years now. It’s strange to see you like this. You’re not a pessimist.”

Caio rubbed his forehead. “This campaign has gone on for more than nine years, and we’ve made little progress. I don’t even believe in this—”

“Then that’s a big problem. You are our Haizzem. You are our Dux Spiritus.
You
must lead us to victory.”

“And I’d rather be in Remaes, healing the sick and comforting the bereaved, leading worship in The Reveria, not praying over the funeral pyres of soldiers who didn’t have to die.”

“These men left their homes to fight for your father. Now they look to you. You must show them they haven’t fought in vain, that their brothers haven’t died for nothing. If you don’t dedicate yourself to winning this war, many more will fall.”

“I have to take lives to save lives.”

“Unfortunately, yes. That’s the way it is. That is your duty and you need to accept it.”

Caio exhaled a loud breath. “You’re right.” He frowned. “I don’t have a choice, except between killing Pawelons or letting our men be killed. That’s not much of a choice, is it?”

“No one ever said war is the most noble thing a man can do, but once this is done you can do better things.”

“Maybe afterward I’ll finally have time to heal the world? All those I could help if I weren’t going to this gods-forsaken canyon?”

“Your father nearly defeated Pawelon on his own. With you and Lucia beside him, we’ll have the power of four gods, Caio!”

“Yes, I know. I only have to ask my goddess to kill for me. I’m sure The Compassionate One will want to do that.”

“Put your trust in history. Haizzem win wars. You were born to do this.”

Caio looked away and kept quiet for some time. “It doesn’t feel like it. Maybe I’m not like the other Haizzem.”

“But how would you know? You’ve never had to do anything you didn’t want to do.”

Caio continued walking, giving no answer.

“I apologize, my Haizzem. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I beg your forgiveness.”