The Black God's War

by Moses Siregar III

  He turned to her and started speaking in a loud voice. “Listen to me. If I were to even consider helping you with this, I would have very serious conditions—”

  “Of course I would agree, Aayu. If you’d help me? I’d do anything you asked.”

  Aayu took in a long breath through his nose and let out a longer one that sounded like the growl of a large animal. “You would stay far, far away from any large battle. And I never want to hear you talk about killing yourself again. Do you agree with me so far?”

  “Aayu, I promise with all my heart and soul. I’m just asking you to help me do what I really need to do.”

  “Do you agree completely and totally to the terms I just stated?”

  “Yes, of course I do.”

  “If you get hurt …”

  “I won’t. I will stay far away from them. I promise. I just want to get a little bit closer so I can see whatever happens to him and be there in case he needs me.”

  “And that’s the reason why I’m going to help you. If anything happens to Rao and no Rezzians are near, I want you to save him.” Aayu closed his eyes, relaxed his shoulders, and sighed.

  He knelt before her, lowering one heavy leg after the other. “Before I teach you this mantra, I am going to impart an energy to you. It will help you to focus more than you’ve ever been able to focus. You will see what it’s like to have the mind of a sage.”

  He touched her forehead, between her eyes, and a cool, burning sensation spread from that point, throughout her head. Narayani’s mind cleared of all thoughts and emotions. A pleasurable calm buzzed through her body. She simply sat. Nothing intruded: no analysis, no fears, nothing to protect, argue, or defend.

  “Now repeat these words, out loud at first.” Nothing else existed but the sound of Aayu’s voice. “After you memorize them, see them in the center of your head, moving across your inner vision with a great light behind them …”

  Chapter 35: The Ebon and the Moon

  THE EMPTINESS OF MIDNIGHT in the desert seemed to tranquilize the Pawelon soldiers atop the high walls of the fortress. They gazed down into the widening canyon: a graveyard for men by day, where countless tiny creatures scurried at night, ignoring mankind. The walls lifted the men too high to smell the desert fragrances, but an occasional cool wind helped to keep them awake.

  Indrajit felt no desire to interrupt their quiet as he walked past them. They deserved some moments of repose.

  When he reached the center of the east-facing wall, he sent the four closest sentries away. While he waited for Briraji, the calm of night did nothing to penetrate the walls of his mind. Even after the day’s great victory and the capture of Strategos Duilio, he dwelled only on the coming retaliation, his fear of the Haizzem’s powers, and the guilt clawing around his insides.

  “Their Strategos says little, General, and when he talks he lies.” Indrajit hadn’t heard Briraji coming. “He claims their southern force was only testing our defenses.”

  Indrajit leaned forward against the wall and stared down at the canyon. “I wonder. The prince’s story indicates he may have caused them to retreat, but I find that hard to believe. The Rezzians still had the numbers. They could have killed every man and marched to the citadel.”

  “I don’t believe the Strategos, but I think our prince believes what he says. Though I suspect he’s deluding himself.”

  “I don’t expect Rao to change his mind in the morning and I am quite sure the Rezzians will agree to his proposal. If Rao is killed, we will benefit from a perfect opportunity to inspire our troops before the onslaught.”

  “And if he somehow wins the contest, it could turn the war in our favor.”

  Indrajit agreed silently. “But I am afraid that could be the beginning of our next great problem.”

  “What would that be?”

  “The rise of Prince Rao as a hero who will exert great influence over his father, and therefore our army.”

  Briraji made a sharp sucking sound. “I see your concern.”

  The moon was bright. It would be full tomorrow. From this height, the boulders and shrubs of the canyon were like objects in the field of a child’s imagination. A sudden breeze swirled around them.

  “Can you imagine him as our rajah? Taking meaningless orders from him, while he would fritter away our security?”

  Briraji said nothing.

  “In peacetime, he would be a fine ruler. But in all military matters, he would be a disaster. For how long have men ever known peace on Gallea?”

  “I agree.”

  “Then can I trust you completely?”

  “Always, General. You know that I understand my place.”

  Indrajit breathed a shallow breath. “We must be prepared for any potentiality, remembering that our duty is to our race and nation, not to any man. Whatever must be done to ensure our survival and independence, we must do. No one man, nor any boy, is more important than the whole of Pawelon. Forced to choose between one loyalty and the other, there can be no deliberation.” Indrajit leaned against the short wall, looked downward, and spit. “Only decisive action.”

  “You command this army, General. I understand my place in it.”

  “Loyalty such as yours is too rare.” Indrajit felt the weight of his contradiction after he’d said it. “I want you to be prepared for anything I might ask. You are a great sage and a great soldier. I will not forget your devotion.”

  For the first time, Indrajit looked at Briraji, who nodded.

  The old general gripped the ebon handle of his grandfather’s dagger sheathed inside his boot. He raised the tip of the polished steel to eye level and twisted it to catch the light of the moon, running one finger along its straight, blunt edge.

  “Briraji, I may soon be in a position to reward you for your impeccable service.”

  Chapter 36 To Honor the Black God

  CAIO’S THROBBING SHOULDER and searing chest wound tortured him throughout his fitful sleep. The warpriests said the pain would dissipate by morning, thanks to their prayers, though they warned him his suffering might peak overnight. It did.

  He awoke to an overwhelming scent, mystical myrrha, sweet and smoky. He rolled off the bed and onto his feet with a groan. A spasm of pain seized his chest.

  Lord Oderigo? he asked silently. It’s finally time for me to transmit your prophecy?

  No response.

  He spoke softly, “Lord Oderigo, is this myrrha from you?”

  No answer.

  I believe I understand your message, my Lord.

  The Book lay upon the dark wooden altar, wrapped with fresh vines. Caio willed his body toward it, breathing in deeply and embracing the pain. Before the altar, he bowed to the ten sacred objects symbolizing the gods. The two largest items honored his Lord and the goddess Mya; for the goddess, a conch shell, and for Oderigo, the very Book of Time.

  Caio untied the vines sealing the god’s book and felt a shiver upon contact with the cracked leather. He moved his thumb along its ridged spine. Reaching its base, his palm and fingers stretched out and grazed across its holy face before his fingertips ran along the edges of the hoary parchment.

  His thumb ran up and down the pages until a sudden vision of light filled his mind. He pushed his thumb into the middle of the book, the pages parted, and the book flew open with a thud. A passage of text pulled his attention:

  The evil deeds of men exist as unaware spirits long after the heinous acts are done, for such products of man’s depravity can neither be dissolved nor diminished merely upon death. Such spirits must and will be transformed by future men, who rarely discover they are grappling with the ghosts. Lord Danato, Dweller in the Abyss, is the sole master of this serpentine process at each pivotal twist.

  He folded the book shut and eased himself down to sitting on his prayer rug, in front of the altar. He kneeled on one leg and stared at The Book. Lord Danato, he prayed, I have no doubt you have called us to journey to your realm. I accept this. Though you may be ready to see us suff
er, I won’t argue with gods and their gifts to men.

  He lowered his forehead to the floor in respect to The Black One. Caio’s resistance to his physical pain had abated, if not the discomfort itself. After a long submission of his will to the gods, he stood and scanned the vines that adorned the walls. He snapped off a long section and used it to wrap up Oderigo’s text once more. The vine went four times around the book.

  Caio closed his eyes and images arose: drowned Pawelons lying on wet ground, the spear flung into his shoulder, his father nearly losing his own life to save him, Lucia’s tormented face after she returned from her abduction.

  Raw feelings coursed through his heart as he contemplated the crushing slaughter of Duilio’s legions, the hopelessness of his soldiers masked by rage, his paralyzing fears about Lucia’s and Ilario’s safety, and, overall, his grieving over the total loss of his perfect world.

  He fell to his prayer rug and prayed again. Lord Danato, whatever suffering may be coming, I beg you to saddle it on me. Let Lucia suffer no more, let no one else suffer but me. I am your slave. Punish only me.

  Ilario’s dauntless voice filled the room. “May we enter, my Haizzem?”

  Caio filled his heart with love as he stood. “Yes, my brother.”

  Lucia followed Ilario, resplendent in her royal cremos robe. Caio sensed Ilario’s guilt, so he embraced his stout friend. Caio warmed inside, knowing Ilario and Lucia had spent the night in each other’s arms.

  “I am so happy to see you together, and to see that you are feeling much better, Lucia.”

  She smiled enough for dimples to form in her cheeks, like drops of sunshine. Caio wanted to hug her, but didn’t want to stain her pristine cremos robe.

  “Now that I have begun to regain my strength,” Caio said to Lucia, “I can pray to Mya to heal you.”

  “Save your energy. I’m feeling better. It’s you I’m worried about.”

  “The warpriests prayed with me. My healing is progressing very swiftly. Please have faith in me.”

  Lucia squinted her eyes at him. “Are you sure you can you do this now? It can wait for another day.”

  “I’m ready. I’ve completed my morning prayers. But there is one thing. I need to change.”

  “We’ll wait outside.” Ilario laid a gentle hand on Caio’s uninjured shoulder before he and Lucia left the yurt.

  Caio undressed and washed his body with anointed clay soap and blessed oils before tying his cremos around him. He rolled up his prayer rug and placed it next to his bed, then laid in front of the altar a fresh white linen trimmed with embroidered gold. He spoke softly, “From here, Lord Danato, we will begin the journey. I hope this site is pleasing to you. It would be much more extravagant and better prepared if we were in Remaes.”

  He invited Lucia and Ilario to reenter, and her happiness noticeably dimmed when she spotted their ceremonial portal. Ilario sat cross-legged on the floor, facing the altar from the opposite wall. Lucia froze and eyed the floor.

  “Maybe there is another way,” Ilario said.

  “No,” Lucia answered.

  “I would be crushed if anything happened to either of you,” Ilario said.

  No one spoke.

  “It is time,” Caio said. “Sister, when you are ready, please sit.” He motioned toward the white linen. “Ilario, should anything happen to our bodies during this process—”

  “I already told the healers to be at the ready,” Ilario said. “I’ll fetch them quickly if they’re needed. Do you think that could happen?”

  “We don’t know what might happen,” Caio said.

  Lucia sat beside the ceremonial portal and Caio went to the altar. He held up a rough piece of obsidian, a sacred stone to worshipers of Danato.

  “Lord Danato, we exalt you. We seek your audience. We bow before you.” Caio placed the jagged stone in Lucia’s hands, looking deeply into her guarded eyes. As she bowed, her hair fell and covered her cheeks.

  Caio returned to the altar. He lifted a glass vial and removed its stopper. We receive your blessings. He splashed the sacred water around: on himself from head to toe, on Lucia’s forehead and body, on the altar, in the air, and on the floor. He used the burning oil lamp on the altar to light a pungent bundle of grey and green desert herbs. He left the sacred plants smoking in a wooden bowl.

  “To bless our journey, I will now read a passage from The Book of Time in honor of Lord Danato.” Caio unfastened the vine and turned to the eleventh chapter, the one dedicated solely to the tenth and final god of Lux Lucis. He began to read:

  “In the earliest days of King Goro’s reign, a great prosperity blessed the lands of Rezzia. The King was a most devout ruler, one who honored The Ten with extravagant ritual sacrifices, the building of great shrines, and support for their warpriests.

  “In the fourteenth year of his reign, the gods came to King Goro on the eve of the Festival of the Golden Moon and invited him to a banquet prepared by their devotees. Just as the ambrosial delights arrived, Lord Galleazzo, The Commander of Lions, the Lord of Lords, asked the king which of the gods he believed was greatest.

  “Being careful not to offend, King Goro told stories of the gods’ grandeur, beginning with the power of Lord Galleazzo’s golden discus and the devotion of his wife the goddess Jacopa, queen of all the plants, animals, and birds. Next he spoke of the holy prophecies of Lord Oderigo and the healing waters created by his sister, the goddess Mya.

  “King Goro told of the endless service to mankind done by Lord Sansone, and of his wife, the goddess Orazia, whose laughter filled the halls of the gods’ pillared mountain shrine. He spoke of the amazing miracles delivered unto man by Lord Cosimo, and of the peace of the loving goddess Vani, who blessed all the world. Lastly, he spoke of the rages of the goddess Ysa, The Protector of Mankind and Commander of Horses.

  “But he neglected to mention Ysa’s brother.

  “After the king’s long and impassioned speeches, a brooding silence hung over the gathering. The sky darkened to black and one god stood: Lord Danato. ‘You have spoken so well of the nine who dwell together, King, yet you have not once mentioned me, as if the Lord of all the dark processes does not belong at the same table as those who dwell on the holy mountain. Your ignorance and insult offend me. I hereby curse you for seven and a half years. You will learn for yourself the depravities which afflict the masses.’

  “The King yelled out his disagreement with The Black One, insisting he made an understandable mistake and should not be punished. The debate between Lord Danato and King Goro grew more heated and, as it did, the King called on the other gods to defend him. They said not a word. Not wanting to contradict Lord Danato, those four gods and five goddesses departed and left the king alone with The Black One. Still King Goro refused to submit and insisted he was right.

  “Within a year, Goro lost his throne due to the treachery of his closest ally, Farinata. By the time seven wretched years had passed for the prior king, he was reduced to begging as a pauper, suffering from a crippling disease and unable to walk, bereft of all family and friends.

  “Goro made use of his prior spiritual training to journey to Lord Danato’s underworld, where he finally begged for The Black One’s mercy. Lord Danato accepted the king’s humble request and gave him some relief from his feverous aching, but told him he would have to suffer in isolation for another half of a year, just as he had initially decreed.

  “Upon the completion of all the days of his curse, King Goro found himself miraculously healed and soon welcomed into the fold of the royal family once again. He lived the rest of his days as a guest in the holy palace, at the pleasure of his nephew, now King Lapo, who had reclaimed the seat of power from Farinata the Usurper.

  “In a tale from the year 765, the Rezzian Queen Modesta also made the treacherous journey to Lord Danato’s underworld. Her husband, King Remigio, lay dying of an incurable affliction with no male heir. Upon reaching Lord Danato’s realm, she is said to have been subjected to tortures the eq
ual of her greatest fears. Once her underworld trial was complete, Lord Danato appeared and gave Modesta his mixed blessing.

  “The king’s health gradually improved, but after he recovered, their daughter Pia died in a raging fire while visiting the province of Lympia.

  “So it has always been. The black god always receives his due.”

  Caio closed the book and closed his eyes. Lord Danato, we honor you and your power.

  As Caio prayed, he still sensed the fear coming from Ilario. “We must honor Lord Danato with all our being. He alone holds the vision of unending warfare. He holds the power of absolution over us all. Nothing further will be accomplished without his grace.”

  Ilario’s face twitched as he nodded. “I will be here saying prayers for you and Lucia.”

  Caio lowered himself to his knees and sat beside Lucia on the floor. She still held the obsidian and glanced down.

  “Let’s begin the journey,” Caio said.

  Lucia blew out a hard breath. Her eyes burned red. “I love you, Caio.”

  “I love you, Lucia.”

  “I’m ready.”

  They lay on their backs, holding hands with their feet pointed away from the altar and The Book of Time upon it. Their spirits fell through the ground, through rocky earth and darkness, plummeting without a sense of physicality, wrenched down by The Black One’s abyssal gravity.

  The Second Stanza:

  Deus Ex Karma

  Chapter 37: The River Styx

  A MYSTERIOUS, SUBDUED LIGHT SOURCE lit the underworld sky. Most of the firmament alternated from impenetrable grey to flickers of soft light mostly eclipsed by the thick atmosphere. Above a crumbling building in the distance, turbulent clouds roiled like a boiling cauldron, spinning around the structure as if it were their axis. The effect dizzied Lucia and Caio. Chaotic shadows waltzed around them.