Silver-haired Tiberio led them toward the pool and statues, to the front of the crowd, between the statues of Lord Galleazzo and his wife, the goddess Jacopa. By the statue of Galleazzo, the stately followers of her father’s patron god wore golden sashes across one shoulder, over their short white tunics and leather girdles. They bowed to their king and then kept their heads low.
The barefoot devotees of the goddess Jacopa mostly wore primitive dress, earthy, non-dyed clothing. Each of them held either a pomegranate or an orange. Lucia assumed they brought the fruits to give to Caio if he chose their goddess.
The statues of Lord Danato and his sister the goddess Ysa stood across the circle. Lucia gave a quick glance at the bald, black-clothed devotees of Lord Danato. Many of them had a tattoo of an orange tear beneath their left eyes. Seeing them, Lucia felt unclean beneath her skin.
She focused on the devotees of the goddess Ysa, her patron goddess, The Protector of Man. The men and women who worshiped Ysa wore red metal circles in their earlobes and clean yellow dresses or tunics. The metal symbolized the goddess’s holy shield, a relic Lucia knew she would be entrusted with some day.
Tiberio placed Caio on the ground before the statue of Lord Galleazzo, the traditional choice for a future king. “Choose your god, young Haizzem.” Tiberio sprinkled more holy water over Caio and stepped back, still muttering prayers.
Good luck, Caio! Lucia felt so excited she wanted to squeal.
Caio looked up at Lord Galleazzo’s statue and smiled, but turned to his left and continued along the ancient stone path around the sunken pool. King Vieri’s eyes drooped in disappointment.
Her brother looked up at the joyful goddess Orazia and giggled, leading to contagious laughter erupting around the atrium. Behind the statue, Orazia’s worshipers cheered. The beloved of Orazia stood out with their bright, parti-colored clothing.
Caio continued to the statue of broad Lord Sansone, The Servant of Man. Miniature black anvils hung from the corded necklaces of the god’s worshipers. They wore common, coarse wool and looked sturdier than the other devotees, many of them powerfully built. Little Caio turned his head and studied the statue with a mischievous smile.
The crowd held its breath.
The boy lifted his head and walked on, his stubby legs carrying him to the statue of the goddess Vani, The Bringer of Love. He left a tiny red object at the goddess’s feet and kept moving around the circle. Lucia realized he’d dropped a toy pig he must have carried with him.
Caio approached the statue of powerful Lord Danato, The Black One, and stopped directly under the god’s frowning glare. The boy looked around the circle for Lucia. She waved to him and barely shook her head ‘no.’
Her brother walked to the goddess Ysa. Caio studied the goddess’s armor, rounded shield, and sword. He sat and put one of his little hands to his cheeks, as if contemplating. Ysa’s devotees lowered themselves to their knees and prostrated to the young Haizzem. He turned back to Lucia and smiled his dimpled smile, picked himself up, and moved on to the next god.
Behind the statue of Lord Cosimo, the god’s male followers wore only loincloths, while Cosimo’s female devotees covered their bodies in loose, purple robes. Caio raised his red and black hands and clapped them for The Lord of Miracles before continuing on.
He skipped to the goddess Mya. Vines covered her statue as well as the next statue, her brother Lord Oderigo. Vine circlets wrapped around the foreheads of Mya’s worshipers. Vine-wrapped cloth belts decorated the followers of Lord Oderigo. Their devotees shared in common sea green and royal blue tunics running down to their ankles.
Caio skipped on toward Lord Oderigo. He stopped, chuckling unselfconsciously for some time as the crowd laughed with him. He walked between the statues of Oderigo and Mya, off the stone path, then sat on the hard clay and stared at the pool.
A ray of sunshine burst through the smoky air and landed on Caio and the two statues beside him. The vines adorning Mya and Oderigo miraculously grew down the statues, onto the floor, and crept toward the boy. The vine from Mya wrapped around his left forearm; the vine from Lord Oderigo wrapped around his right.
“Havah ilz avah Haizzem!” The Exalted shouted, and the crowd repeated the chant ten times.
Lucia realized that either Caio had just chosen two deities or they had chosen him. Mya and Oderigo, brother and sister, like the goddess Ysa and Lord Danato. The vine-blessed followers of Mya and Oderigo rose to their feet and cheered as Caio stood, many of them weeping and wailing with joy.
“My dearest Lucia.”
That sick voice again.
From behind the statue of Lord Danato, the black god himself appeared, tall as his likeness. His coal eyes froze her with terror. She couldn’t feel her body.
Lord Danato walked in front of Ysa’s statue.
Stop him, my goddess! Ysa!
The vines trailing from the statues of Mya and Oderigo seemed to be holding Caio’s tiny body in place. He giggled, playing to the crowd, and the people filled the atrium with their laughter again. Their chuckling sounded like mockery in Lucia’s ears.
Danato walked in front of The Lord of Miracles.
You’re jealous he didn’t choose you!
Lucia came to her senses and ran past her father, past Tiberio, past the statue of the goddess Jacopa. “Stop him!” she screamed. “Lord Danato’s going to kill Caio!”
Caio looked at her with his mouth wide open.
She ran in front of Lord Oderigo’s statue just as Danato stepped behind the vine-covered goddess.
A hand gripped one of her upper arms. “Lucia!” her father said through clenched teeth. “This is no time for jealousy.”
Lucia struggled to breathe. I’m not, she wanted to say.
“Warpriests, take her away. This is the Haizzem’s day.”
Lord Danato stepped behind Caio. “Sweet Lucia, do not fear your Lord.”
“Get away from him!” she yelled back.
Two bald warpriests lifted her from under her arms. She struggled at first, but it was no use fighting them.
Goddess, please save my brother. Please save him!
The men carried her back through the crowd. She swallowed her voice and strained to see Caio through the throng. Once they lifted her to the top of the stairs, she saw Lord Danato again, staring up at her with his hand resting on top of Caio’s skull. Caio didn’t seem to notice. The warpriests carried her into a hallway, out of the public’s view.
She squirmed. “Let me down. Let me walk.”
They released their grips and one said, “Then go on to your chamber. We’ll follow you there.”
The military Strategos with curly hair entered the hallway. His eyes shone with concern above his rosy cheeks. “Is everything all right, Lucia?”
“No! Caio isn’t safe.”
“He’s absolutely fine,” the man said. “Perfectly all right. Can I walk with you?”
Lucia clenched her jaw and stared at him.
The Strategos put his hands on the shoulders of the two warpriests. “Let me handle this.”
They bowed to the older man and stepped back toward the stairs, watching her as they exited.
The Strategos put his hands together near his solar plexus. “My name is Duilio. I’m sorry you’re upset.”
“Lord Danato intends to kill my brother. If you want to help me, go now and protect him.”
“Your father and the warpriests won’t let that happen. I promise you, everything will be fine. I will walk with you, Lucia. Let’s talk.”
She squeezed her fists, wondering if she could run past him to get another look.
“Lucia, don’t make your father angry again. Let’s walk together please.”
She spun around in defeat and began walking toward her chamber. They passed two statuesque soldiers. Lucia kept her gaze down.
Outrage and embarrassment boiled inside her.
She erupted, turning and pounding her fists against the hardened clay wall.
Duil
io held her arms. She screamed through gritted teeth like a trapped animal.
“It’s all right, Lucia. It’s all right. I know you’ve been through a lot.”
“Let me go!”
“Tell me, do you know about The Lord of Miracles?”
“Of course I do.” She relaxed a little.
Duilio released her. “Will you join me in praying to him?”
Lucia slumped down onto the floor and leaned her back against the wall. “No. I only pray to Ysa. I don’t even know if she hears me.”
“Of course she does, dear. You once chose her on a day just like this, on your special day, and now she watches over you.”
Just like the goddess Jacopa looked after my mother?
“If you don’t want to pray with me, I would still like to pray for you.”
“Do what you like.”
“My Lord Cosimo, I humbly beseech you to grant Lucia your miracle. She worries about Lord Danato harming her brother. Please intercede on Lucia’s behalf. Please heal the source of her fear. Will you please? She is our royal daughter. Her brother needs her. Her father needs her. Rezzia needs her. Look after her. She more than deserves your grace.”
Lucia felt a little calmer as she heard Duilio praying.
“I saw,” she said before stopping herself. You won’t understand.
“What did you see?”
“Nothing. I’m going to my chamber.”
Lucia stood and turned her back to the Strategos. She ran to her room and heard Duilio following her at a distance.
The Black One shadowed Lucia as well, invisible to the eyes of men. The black god visited Lucia again that night, after she drifted off to sleep. It was the first of many more nightly visits from the god, and the onset of Lucia’s transformation.
“The descent to Hades is the same from every place.”
-Anaxagoras
The First Stanza:
To Brave the Divine
Chapter 3: A Sacrifice for Apollo
Caio’s nineteenth birthday. The day of the Dux Spiritus ceremony in Remaes.
JURG FORCED HIS WAY across the white, stone plaza, plowing ahead on his good leg while dragging the aching, lame one. At the end of his long journey, he held just one target in mind: the Haizzem boy.
The exotic, curving architecture of the Rezzian holy palace loomed over the crowd with its religious gravity. Behind it, the vanishing sun fell onto the desert horizon.
You’re an ugly people with an uglier religion, he thought, but you’ve made one beautiful thing—this white city. I’m glad to see it before I crumble to dust.
The pilgrims pressed in on Jurg from all directions, muttering prayers in their guttural language and shouting exultations. Their saccharine incense filled his nostrils, making his stomach sick. Jurg smashed his way through the crowd with his thick forearms, his bloodied Andaran garb staining their immaculate cremos robes. The Rezzians just swayed in worship, lost in ecstasy.
In a sea of white, Jurg was a haggard red stain.
Good thing most of the freaks are gone. Those who’d left had already gotten what they wanted; their holy savior had touched them. Now Jurg was one amongst a crowd of only a few thousand. His chances of intercepting the Haizzem might still be good.
Walk faster, you damned, useless legs. You’re not that old, are you?
Bashing his way through the crowd gave him little guilt, but leaving his people and family still weighed on his mind. He’d left the forests of Andars weeks ago, knowing he would probably never breathe in their crisp sweetness again. He’d yet to stop worrying about what would become of young Sky, Dag, and Idonea.
Amazing, how easy it is to approach this Caio. After the day’s Dux Spiritus ceremony, the Rezzians’ passion now focused on just one man, no longer two. The king retained his political throne, but the military power now belonged to his son; the religious savior was the new Dux Spiritus of Rezzia’s armies. Ironically, the young man was also believed to be a great healer.
The hypnotized crowd faced the palace, the Haizzem, and the setting sun. All at once, the people dropped to their knees in prayer, giving Jurg a clear view of the man he’d come for.
The Haizzem was like the brightest star on a hazy full moon night, the only one shining in the fog. Something about his kind face was so captivating that Jurg stopped to stare. Like most Rezzian men, the Haizzem’s thick, dark mane fell around his shoulders; but Jurg found the boy charming, even beautiful.
The young man had touched and supposedly blessed more than a hundred thousand Rezzians on this day. His filthy robe must have been grabbed by nearly everyone who’d approached him—yet the boy radiated remarkable warmth and energy.
Jurg experienced a rare moment of joy. At last, the long journey felt worthwhile. As he saw the guards around the new Dux Spiritus, he began to question his plan.
The Haizzem stood three levels up, on the giant steps that curved around and led up to the holy palace. More than a hundred soldiers formed a wide semi-circle around him. An enormous warden stayed close beside the new Dux Spiritus, scanning the crowd with hawk-like eyes set in a gentle face; his short blond hair stood out in the sea of dark Rezzian features. Jurg’s blond hair did, too. The Haizzem’s protector would see him soon.
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 g
leamed 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.
The Black God's War Page 2
