The Black God's War

by Moses Siregar III

  Duilio agreed to do his part as well, to lead a significant diversion to the south. He also shared some news: “We have received an incredible report from our spies. The rajah’s son, Rao, joined the conflict on the same day as their bold attack. We assume he had something to do with their more aggressive tactics. I am told that the tales of his powers are already becoming legendary amongst their soldiers. In fact, they say it was he alone who stopped the goddess Ysa’s rage.”

  Lucia reminded them that an evil force had violated her with some overpowering magic. Her father and Ilario agreed that Pawelon’s prince would be their target if they could find him on the battlefield. With Rao dead, they would have an even greater chance to intimidate their enemy into surrender.

  The king gave the expected response, an unequivocal desire for a total victory that would allow them to bring significant changes to Pawelon politically and spiritually. Lucia changed the subject to the planning of the day’s attack, postponing the debate over the merits of surrender.

  Duilio suggested that Lucia should accompany him while Caio attacks the northern sentry outpost, so that both missions would have the greatest chance of success. Lucia insisted on staying with her brother. Caio trusted her plan, privately feeling more secure having Lucia alongside him. Duilio graciously agreed to his Dux Spiritus’ wishes, and so they went.

  The team made their way north along the eastern edge of the canyon and then west into the desert valley, staying as close as possible to sparse patches of vegetation to cover their approach.

  Chapter 19: The Earth Shaker and His Sea

  ONCE WITHIN RANGE of the sentry outpost, they rushed into the cover of a thicket of bushes. The branches were razor-sharp, curling around in wild circles like an assassin spinning with curved swords.

  Caio, Ilario, and Lucia huddled by the largest bush, panting. The warpriests hid behind other shrubs, watching Caio with deadly focus. The scarves protecting their bald heads from the climbing sun fluttered in the breeze.

  Everyone else looks so ready for this, Caio thought.

  He whispered, “I hadn't realized the mornings would be so cold.” Caio didn’t have whatever benefits of warmth came from the padding of armor, unlike Lucia. The goddess Mya and Lord Oderigo hadn’t left behind sacred battle relics as Ysa had for her royal devotees. Caio’s armor was spiritual. Oderigo entrusted the royal lineage with his sacred text, The Book of Time. The goddess Mya handed down to the royalty a wooden rod shaped from the first olive tree the gods gave the kingdom many centuries ago. Caio squeezed the solid, grainy wood of the healing scepter in one hand and felt its majestic aura.

  This power was given to me so that I could heal. This is madness.

  “I think this land hates us,” Lucia whispered back, her sharp eyes remaining focused past the edges of the bush, up the hill. “Later, you’ll be glad you dressed for the heat.”

  Caio squeezed one of his arms, feeling the loose sleeve of his unbleached cotton thawb, a long tunic running down to his sandaled feet. He thrust his head back and let the matching head scarf settle behind his shoulders.

  “This is as close as we’ll get,” Lucia said.

  “I pray none of them have to die,” Caio said to himself as much as to the others.

  Ilario had said little since they set out, keeping to himself most of the hike. Caio sensed his friend’s fears about their mission and his conflicted feelings for Lucia. Ilario’s eyes focused on the Pawelon outpost and the steep climb leading up to it.

  “You were right,” Ilario said to Lucia. “There's no practical way to assault them. Their archers would have perfect positioning while we climb the hill, and they must have sages ready with a complete strategy for defense.” He turned and patted Caio on the back, making brief eye contact. “Remember, you hold the goddess Mya’s rod in your hand. Everything is possible for you, my Haizzem.”

  Lucia’s gaze pried into Caio’s soul, making sure her message was received. “Prevent them from seeing our forces behind us, and prevent them from alerting their army. You can do this.”

  Caio looked down on the intricate red and black lines the gods had painted on his palms while he was still in his mother’s womb. As with all the other Haizzem before him, the patterns started at the center of his palms, wrapped around his hands, and wound along his forearms to his elbows. Gazing at the thorny lines centered his mind.

  He gripped Mya’s smooth rod with both hands and exhaled warmth onto his cold fingers. “Will our gods need to kill anyone to accomplish this goal? We only need to distract the Pawelons.”

  “I am sure The Ten will obey you,” Lucia said, “though you know they aren't always compassionate.”

  “We will see a great miracle today,” Ilario added. “Clear the way, my Haizzem, and let the gods decide the details.”

  Caio noticed that Ilario momentarily looked away from the hill, to Lucia's face. Earlier that morning, Caio had seen his sister relax and smile much more deeply than usual around Ilario. “I wonder what we’ll be doing when we marry and grow old together,” Caio said.

  Lucia’s and Ilario's eyes met for a moment before she said, “Caio, you should focus.”

  Caio stood up, still using the bush for some cover. “If anything should ever happen to me, know how much I love you both, and that nothing would make me happier than to see you together someday.”

  He knew they’d be uncomfortable hearing his words, so he gave them no time to respond. Caio ran into the open, up the long hill. If not for his trust in the gods, the empty distance would have been terrifying. He looked back, upset at seeing Lucia and Ilario chasing after him. The ten warpriests spread out to protect them, their flowing, white clothing snapping like flags in a strong wind.

  The goddess Mya appeared three paces in front of Caio, wearing a lush green dress of leaves. Her enigmatic eyes quivered with a hint of moisture. She held up the palm of her delicate hand.

  Caio remained upright but dropped to his knees. He heard the others stop and felt their eyes on him. He extended his open arms before his goddess, clenching her rod in one hand, with a plea upon his face. If you will help us, Mya, what will you do to our enemies?

  He felt a sudden shiver of heat.

  Must we kill them? Is that what I should ask for, and would you even grant such a thing?

  No response came from The Goddess of the Great Waters. His heart was pulled deeper into her mesmerizing gaze.

  How can I go against my own marrow?

  Silence.

  I am your chosen Haizzem, why can I not instead bring peace to this land?

  Emptiness.

  Do my wishes even matter? Can all this momentum toward bloodshed even be stopped?

  Mya stepped toward him and caressed his face from cheek to chin. It felt refreshing all the way down to his toes, like cool water on scorched earth.

  We only need the Pawelons incapacitated, so they cannot alert their army. I don’t want you to kill them.

  Mya faded from sight like mist warmed by fire.

  The Pawelons stirred on the hill above. Caio knew he might have only seconds before their arrows or magic reached him and his friends.

  Caio stood taller than he’d ever stood before, raised his arms, and closed his eyes. He squeezed the rod in his right hand and expelled his goddess's power toward the Pawelons. A booming, wet, sucking sound startled him, forcing him to open his eyes and witness Mya’s miracle.

  Lucia watched Caio raise the rod, then heard Ysa’s sword and shield humming a barely perceptible tone.

  Ysa, empower his prayers!

  And then Caio was gone.

  The Pawelon base became the epicenter of an impossible phenomenon. Countless water droplets appeared out of the dry air and flew toward the enemy forces as if in slow motion—yet the water covered the Pawelons in a matter of seconds.

  Lucia felt her head spinning as she gazed at the divine handiwork. Something like a small sun covered the Pawelon fort, but instead of a fiery ball, the sphere was composed of deep
blue water like the stormy Rezz Ocean. Its circumference chopped violently.

  Muffled screams escaped the watery prison like a haunted chorus, emphatic but indistinct.

  A sudden pain seized Lucia’s heart. She raced toward the hill drawing her sword. “Caio!” Damn you, father, you should have known he wasn’t ready for this! She held up her shield to block any incoming arrows or magic, leaving it up to her goddess whether she’d live or die.

  The yelling behind her revealed that Ilario was close by and the warpriests trailed him. The sounds of her heavy exhalations and clanking armor almost drowned out the wails of the trapped Pawelons.

  Strangely, her legs moved more easily as the climb grew steeper.

  It’s like I’m running downhill.

  She felt a tangible force pulling her body upward toward the liquid sun, even with half the distance still to go.

  From behind, Ilario screamed her name.

  Chapter 20: Astrapios and Brontios

  CAIO FOUND HIMSELF SUSPENDED ABOVE the Pawelon outpost, hovering in the air. Countless hostile faces screamed at him from below. He yelled back in their language, “I didn’t come to hurt you!”

  WHY, Mya?

  The water droplets seemed to float toward him so slowly in that moment—so quickly in truth—accumulating rapidly, sticking to him, pooling around him, until he was submerged in the cool water, along with all the Pawelon soldiers. Water-soaked rays of sunlight cascaded around the edges, giving Caio hope that he might swim free. His legs kicked and his arms dug through the water—but his body stayed anchored in place.

  I’m at its center.

  I’m trapped.

  Angry voices dribbled into his ears along with the rush of sloshing water. His already cool skin felt colder. Most of the Pawelons struggled to escape; some of them floundered, as if they didn’t know how to swim. None of them got away. Caio realized that whatever force kept him in the center of the sea also trapped the Pawelons inside.

  Two swam toward him with spears in hand and rage burning on their faces. Caio felt the spirit of the leading Pawelon, a veteran determined to see his iron cut through Caio’s body. Caio’s heart and chest heaved as the water swirled around him. The Pawelon drew close.

  Caio jerked aside as the spear’s tip thrust past his chest. A hard surge of water crashed the Pawelon into him and their bodies collided, grappling.

  A fierce hand grabbed Caio’s wrist. Fingers dug into his throat. He choked on cool water. Caio shoved the hand off his neck and tried to expel the liquid.

  The second Pawelon swam close, ready to thrust his spear. The strong arms of the veteran wrapped around Caio’s chest from behind, restraining him. Caio thrashed, overpowered.

  I’m going to die.

  The spear came at him. I forgive you. The blade pierced his chest, glancing off his ribs. Caio bellowed, bubbles erupting from his throat. Blood gushed from his chest, a murky red cloud in the blue.

  Vine-covered Lord Oderigo flashed in his mind. Caio’s eyes closed, his world fell away to nothingness, and death’s long tunnel opened before him.

  Lucia stared at the spot where Caio had been standing.

  Whatever spell you’ve cast—her thoughts burned on the Pawelon sages—I will break.

  She raced up the dry hill pointing Ysa’s sword at the sky, her muscles alive with exertion. “Ysa, destroy them for whatever they’ve done to him!”

  The sword discharged a shocking force into her body, stunning her senseless. The energy retreated back into the sword and shot from its tip toward the water.

  Lucia collapsed in a quivering heap, battered lungs straining to breathe. Gasping for air, a vision of blond Ysa appeared before her closed eyes.

  Death’s tunnel pulled Caio in, faster and faster …

  BOOM!

  An explosion shattered the black tunnel. Caio became conscious of his body again. A shock wave sent blistering heat across his skin. His nose picked up the scent of sizzled hair and flesh.

  Dozens of Pawelons floated around him, all but one unconscious. The first attacker floated away, twitching involuntarily. The young man who speared him struggled with weak limbs to grab his floating weapon.

  Caio grabbed the spear with his right hand, Mya’s rod still somehow in his left. As he pushed the weapon away, their eyes met. The boy wrapped his fingers across his own throat with terror contorting his face. Caio heard a garbled sound from him and knew the young man was nearly out of breath. By some grace, Caio no longer struggled to breathe.

  His empathy reached out to the boy, and the Pawelon’s story came to him in a flash of insight. His family lived in a poverty-stricken village in the mountains near the city of Mathura. Caio saw his possible future. He saw the man someday with a large, loving family. His first son would become a respected spiritual leader among his people.

  Caio watch the young man’s agony as he drowned. He reached out just as the boy’s body went soft, and put his arms around him.

  Mya, protect his soul.

  The rest were dead. Caio sensed, as he often intuited things, that the boy's spirit had been powerful enough to keep him conscious after the lightning spread through the water.

  The water gave way and flooded down the hill’s steep slopes. Caio crashed to the ground in the center of the outpost, clinging to the young soldier and bleeding on his enemy’s soaked uniform. He rolled onto his knees and grabbed the boy’s shirt with both hands.

  Mya, I command you, raise this young man from death!

  Chapter 21: A Rival to the Gods

  Moments earlier.

  ILARIO WATCHED SPARKS OF LIGHTNING flow from Lucia’s sword, around her armored body, back into the blade, and then out toward the hovering mass of water.

  “Lucia!”

  He slid beside her, panting, his knees scraping against the desert floor. He dropped his sword and put his hands to her cheeks.

  “Lucia, you’re going to be all right!”

  Her body writhed. She struggled to breathe. No air came in or out.

  Ilario pressed against her breastplate, hoping to awaken her stunned lungs. A tortured sound escaped her throat, followed by wheezing, then choking breaths.

  “I’m okay,” her pained voice lied. “Stop their sages. Go find Caio.” She squeezed her eyes shut and grimaced. “I’ll follow. Go!”

  Ilario grabbed his sword and stood, his heart slugging his ribcage. Lucia’s suffering filled his mind with red rage. He wanted to stay with her, but he knew she was right. The warpriests would protect her while he searched for Caio.

  With duty focusing his mind like the edge of his blade, he pushed his muscles to their limits and ignored the burning in his thighs. He sprinted to the wall of the Pawelon outpost, just beneath the chaotic waters. He dug his fingers into the stone walls, climbed, and jumped upward into the hovering sea.

  The water sucked him in deeper before its force released him. His stomach hit the dry ground. A moment later, the sea crashed down over him, surging past his ears as it flooded the area. He jumped up reflexively, spinning with sword in hand. The water cascaded off the hill in all directions, revealing hundreds of dead Pawelons. Their outpost had become their graveyard.

  Caio lay near the center of the structure, beside a Pawelon’s body, both of them covered in blood. Ilario ran as Caio came up onto his knees and grabbed the unconscious soldier by his shirt. Caio’s face contorted in agony, revealing intense concern for the young Pawelon.

  “Let me help you.” Ilario approached him, tearing off his cloak to cover Caio’s wounds. The warpriests were running in from behind.

  “Stay back, Ilario. These men are dead because of me,” Caio said.

  “You did this so fewer will have to die.”

  “What about this one? Does he deserve to die?”

  Caio put his palms on the dead Pawelon’s chest. His hands and arms glowed red and black, projecting dark swirling colors into the daylight. The colors transformed slowly into pure white. The light spread over and around the soldie
r, sheathing him like a cocoon. The boy rose into the air.

  A gust of breath punched its way into the Pawelon’s chest, and his body rippled with an aftershock. The lights lifted higher, and he with them, turning him until his feet dangled just above the ground. The coat of light sank into his chest and disappeared. The young Pawelon landed upright.

  We’ll never see this miracle again. Ilario realized he’d been one of only a dozen to witness the single resurrection by the Haizzem of his era. The greatest miracle Caio could grant in this life was given and done.

  “You resurrected a gods-damned Pawelon!” Lucia’s voice bellowed from well behind Ilario. She flung down Ysa’s helm and stormed forward.

  Ilario envisioned two scenarios in which he might need to intervene, one involving an angry Lucia and the other involving a violent Pawelon. He took another step toward Caio and the pig. Caio bent over, hiding his face and breathing hard. The Pawelon’s face revealed his enchanted state of mind.

  Ilario said in stilted Pawelon, “Sit down. We’ll not hurt you.”

  Caio raised his head off the ground, and the boy sat as commanded.

  Lucia raced forward, pointing Ysa’s white blade at Caio. “You raised a gods-damned Pawelon from the dead?”

  “He will have seven children,” Caio said. “He will be a peaceful man, a good man. I couldn’t—”

  “Lucia, please put your sword away,” Ilario said as he raised his free hand.

  “You could have saved one of ours some day.” She sheathed the blade with a resounding slam. “This is an outrage, an insult to our entire history.”

  Caio pressed his lips together, restraining his words. His eyes were locked with Lucia’s, asking for understanding.