The Black God's War

by Moses Siregar III

  “And I have no one,” Narayani said. “I’ve never had anyone that loved me, not until Rao.”

  Lucia remembered Ilario sleeping in her bed, his face, his lips. She remembered his death. “You are young and beautiful. You will find another love.”

  Narayani fell forward and down, collapsing her body into a heap of sorrow.

  “Have you decided, my daughter?” Danato asked.

  “Yes.” Lucia picked up her hands again and placed them on Rao’s chest. She looked up at the cloudless sky and tears poured from her eyes like a gentle rain.

  I am sorry, Caio. What you really wanted, before your heart was twisted and broken, was peace. I only sacrifice you so that so many more will live.

  Chapter 82: Return to the Underworld

  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.

  Rao stood in this great basin surrounded by tall, craggy mountains. His bare feet chafed against the cracked floor and hot, biting winds—full of steam—assaulted his subtle body.

  Lord Danato loomed over him, all black skin and leather.

  “You’ve come for me,” Rao said.

  “This remains to be seen.”

  “Is this your underworld?”

  “No. This plane exists between the surface and the netherworld. Your life remains in Lucia’s hands.”

  “She is considering saving me?”

  The black god nodded once.

  Just ahead, the harsh ground became a polished natural floor. Close to the distant mountains ahead, Danato’s fabled lighthouse literally glided around the smooth surface with dark clouds following it.

  “Come,” Danato said, leading Rao toward the structure. The black god’s strides lengthened and Rao’s raw feet ran to keep up. He stumbled and fell once, twice, three times before he reached the swinging, dilapidated black wooden door.

  The black god stood near the entrance, facing Rao. “You have only one chance at life. To exercise it, you must enter.”

  Without another thought, Rao leapt over the few crumbling steps, through the door, and squeezed into a dark vestibule. Dim rays of light from outside revealed a much heavier door in front of him, one reinforced by tall bands of steel and decorated with round obsidian gems. It blocked the only way forward. Carved into it were the following words in a calligraphic Pawelon script:

  May the spectre of death be your ever-present liberation.

  Rao pressed the lever atop the rusty handle and pushed. The metallic hinges produced an echoing screech …

  The light of the sun blinded Rao’s eyes, but a transcendent calm precluded him from feeling any pain.

  Clang. The sound of metal against metal. Clang.

  The washed out, white sky slowly differentiated into a field of blue and a burning sun.

  Clang. A man screamed, dimly.

  “Rao … Rao …” The voice echoed like drops of water dripping into a tub.

  Two hands lifted him from under his shoulders. Narayani’s face blocked out the blue heaven.

  “Your father needs you! Get up.” She lowered her face to his and kissed his lips.

  The world spun around him in a great panoramic vision. There: Lucia holding Ysa’s relics, Narayani lifting him, Caio dead, Aayu prone, and his father fighting the king of Rezzia.

  With Narayani pushing him from behind, he rose to a sitting position.

  Rao’s father looked at him for a moment before the king charged the rajah and brought down his curved falchion. Devak had just enough time to block Vieri’s swing; holding his spear in two hands, he received the king’s sword against the shaft of his weapon, and then pushed the king back.

  Why? Rao wondered.

  The king and rajah danced around each other. Devak bled from one forearm.

  Rao worked his way to his feet and put aside his shock over the presence of Aayu and his father. He looked down at Caio’s body and saw his horribly bruised flesh. He looked down at his own skin and saw he was unharmed.

  “Stop,” he said.

  “Don’t interfere, Rao,” Lucia answered. She pointed her sword, almost directly at him, as she spoke from five paces away.

  “We came here to work this out,” he said.

  “And that’s what they are doing,” she said.

  Devak thrust his spear forward and Vieri dodged sideways. The rajah stabbed forward again and the king blocked with his golden shield, then hammered his weapon down on the rajah’s spear. Devak maintained his grip and pulled back again.

  “Why?” Rao yelled.

  “Until this man is dead,” his father said, “your life will never be safe.”

  Rao checked Lucia. She stood away from the combat, seeming content to let it play out.

  “This won’t solve anything,” Rao said.

  Vieri roared as he came toward Devak, hacking down and then pulling back quickly and swinging from over his other shoulder. The rajah held his spear with two hands and blocked the rain of blows, screaming.

  Devak swung the butt of his spear forward and jabbed, catching Vieri in the face and opening a wound on his cheek. The king rushed forward and sliced his blade low at the rajah’s leg and opened a gash.

  Devak stumbled sideways and held his spear in front of his body at an angle to defend himself. The king of Rezzia hacked as he came forward, once, twice, three, four, and five times, finally knocking the giant rajah of Pawelon down onto his backside.

  Vieri fell forward, leading with his blade straight down into Devak’s gut. Devak expelled a dying bawl and swung his spear once more weakly, cutting across Vieri’s shoulder. The rajah’s eyes seized up with crippling pain.

  Devak dropped his spear and slumped flat against the earth. Blood poured from his midsection, onto the dry desert.

  Rao closed his eyes, unable to watch.

  He couldn’t erase the scene from his mind: the slaying of his invincible father … his father’s gagging, guttural scream.

  “Rao!” Lucia yelled.

  He opened his eyes. Narayani raced toward the King of Rezzia.

  With the king’s back turned to her, Narayani picked up Devak’s spear and thrust it fully into his back.

  The king spun and fell backward, removing his falchion from Devak’s body and slicing it across the front of Narayani’s neck.

  Aayu screamed, “No!”

  The king fell to his knees and looked at Lucia before he closed his eyes and slumped forward.

  Narayani clutched her neck and crumbled to the ground, convulsing, beside the king.

  Their blood spilled onto the ground and ran together.

  Rao ran to Narayani. Lucia ran to her father.

  Narayani tried to speak. At first, only gurgling came from her throat. Then she said, “Now you’ll be safe.”

  “My love,” Rao said as he held her head with both hands.

  Narayani clumsily grabbed at Rao’s face and mouthed, “I love you.”

  He kissed her for the last time.

  Chapter 83: The Temple of the Gods

  THE SUN’S RAYS shone a deep golden color through the aspens. The Temple of the Gods appeared as Caio remembered from his visions, except for one great difference. The holy structure had been utterly pale and white before. Now each column of the gods’ temple shined with vibrant images of The Ten.

  He turned his head slowly, taking in the tiny leaves fluttering in the mountain breeze. The air smelled fresh and moist despite the arid climate. Songbirds flew between the trees, filling the air with a ballad of eternal morning.

  Caio walked to the high stairs of the temple and studied the colorful marble steps, vibrant shades of yellow. He heard a pleasant hum within the temple and climbed toward its towering, open entrance.

  In his visions, the great hall had always been empt
y, save for the presence of Lord Oderigo. This time it was full of men, women, and children standing in rows, thousands smiling, warm and receptive. Those seated near the aisle held out their hands to him.

  He walked the central aisle and gently held one hand after another. Each face brought back vivid memories of lives he had touched with one kindness or another. Some he had healed, some he had comforted as a counselor, some he had prayed with, and others he had made laugh.

  He came upon a Pawelon man and held his hands. Caio recognized him as the young man he resurrected. Behind the Pawelon sat a short woman and seven Pawelon children.

  The entire congregation began to cheer.

  “What is this?” Caio leaned in to hear the man speak over the sound of the applause.

  “I am still alive on Gallea. You are experiencing my spirit, the spirit of my eventual wife, and the spirits of my future children. We want to thank you.”

  Caio looked to the third child and somehow recognized him as the boy he saw in his visions, the one who would be a great soul among his people. “You’re most welcome.”

  Ilario, he remembered.

  “Your friend who died because I lived,” the young Pawelon said, pointing further down the aisle.

  Caio turned, greeted by dazzling faces as he walked toward the front row. His old friend’s eyes drew all of Caio’s attention. They were spinning portals of light.

  Caio hurried forward and knelt. He put his hands on Ilario’s knees. “Will you ever forgive me for not being able to save you?”

  His broad-chested friend didn’t move, but looked down with warmth that filled Caio’s soul. “From where I am now, forgiveness is not a question. And very soon it will not be an issue for you either.”

  “How did I get here? Are Lucia and my father all right?”

  “Lucia is leading her army back to Rezzia. Your father has taken his final rest.”

  “Where is he? Can I see him?”

  “Not for some time. He must journey through Danato’s underworld first.”

  “What about Narayani, the Pawelon girl?”

  Ilario looked over Caio’s shoulder.

  Caio turned and saw Narayani standing close behind him, more beautiful than any flower, more divine than any mountain range, more magnificent than any sunset.

  “What happened?” he asked. “Are you still alive?”

  “I died soon after you, Caio.”

  “How?”

  “That doesn’t matter.” She reached for his hand and lifted Caio to his feet. “We’re going to be together now, together forever.”

  Caio’s field of vision became restricted to Ilario’s eyes. Their glow deepened, becoming a cone and then a corridor of soft light. He felt himself traveling the dazzling tunnel, holding Narayani’s hand. He flew in further, faster, then felt a rush like the cooling sprays of a thousand bright blue oceans.

  All that remained was acceptance and love.

  Chapter 84: Mother of the Night

  Kannauj, Pawelon.

  RAO KNOCKED on the rickety, thin wooden door. It seemed to be ‘locked’ in place by a ratty piece of rope on the inside of the brothel. He looked Aayu in the face. Neither said a word.

  “Who goes?” a hoarse woman’s voice asked.

  “I have money.”

  “How much?”

  “Enough for all of you.” Rao smiled at Aayu.

  The lady of the house swung the door open, letting out a musty smell tinged with stale liquor. Three dilapidated pink couches covered in white shawls comprised the furniture of the waiting area. A dusty wooden stairwell led up to the second floor, where a hand-carved red railing ran in front of a handful of rooms.

  “But I have a request for one in particular,” Rao said. “Halima is her name.”

  “Boy, we’ve got younger, prettier women. Do you want to see them?”

  “No thank you, she is the one we want.”

  The woman nodded, mainly to herself, and called up the stairs. “Halima! You have two customers.” She narrowed her eyes upon Rao. “You don’t get a deal for two. It’s full price for each of you.”

  “That’s no problem.”

  The lady held out her hand and took Rao’s heavy copper coins. She flashed him a questioning eye before waving them up the stairs.

  Rao wore common worker’s clothing, oversized grey trousers and a long, scratchy wool shirt that ended above his knees. Aayu wore a matching ‘uniform,’ with a bulge at his right shoulder from all of his bandages. No one here would recognize them for who they were, not from their dress anyway.

  A greying woman stepped out from the door at the end of the walkway. “Come on in.”

  Rao heard what sounded like a heavy man screaming in pleasure as he passed the first door. He increased his pace. “Come on,” he said to Aayu, then turned and saw his friend about to break into laughter.

  Rao and Aayu entered the room and the lady stood before them in the center of the room on an old rug, peeling off her long gloves.

  “Please—” Rao said, holding up both of his hands.

  “What sort of pleasures are you looking for?”

  “Aunt Halima, it’s Aayu. I’m your nephew.”

  The woman stiffened up like a board and her voice deepened, “Aayu? What are you doing? I am not about to—”

  “We’re not here for that.” Aayu shook his head side to side. “Believe me.”

  Rao fought back a smile. “We’re here to give you something.” He produced a copper medallion from his shirt pocket. It had been carved into the form of a sun with seven curving rays streaming out from its center. “This is the highest medal our army can offer.”

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m the Rajah of Pawelon, formerly your prince.”

  The woman’s mouth flew open. Rao took her hand in his and placed the medal in it.

  “Why are you giving me this?”

  “Because your daughter can’t receive it herself. She’s dead. But in dying, she saved Pawelon from Rezzia’s crusade. She saved my life and slew Rezzia’s king.”

  Narayani’s mother scrunched her lips into sour confusion.

  “I wanted to make sure you know your daughter was a great soul. She didn’t know how to find you while she was alive, but we managed to track you down.”

  The woman’s voice turned weak. “How did she die?”

  “The king killed her,” Aayu said, “as she killed him.”

  Halima walked, with legs that seemed ready to crumble, over to her bed. She collapsed onto the heap of colorful, stained pillows.

  “There’s one other thing,” Rao said. “I don’t want to impose anything on you. But if you would like to leave behind this lifestyle, I’ve set up a private residence for you, a few streets away from our palace. If you’d like to, you can live there, and I’ve also arranged for a stipend so that you will never have to worry about working again. If Narayani had lived, I’m sure she would’ve wanted something like this for you.”

  “Was she your lady?”

  “Yes. I loved her very much.”

  “Where is her father?”

  “He served the lands of Pawelon with distinction, throughout the course of the war against Rezzia. He has since been released from his duty. I don’t know where he is anymore.”

  Rao produced a small parchment from his pocket and placed it at the edge of her bed. On top of it, he laid down enough coin to pay for ten visits to the brothel and a small metal key. “The address is written there. And that note will get you access to the palace, if you wish to draw your stipend.”

  He nodded to Aayu and began to leave the room.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I was in the middle of a terrible time, Aayu, when I left.”

  “It’s all right,” Aayu told her.

  Rao led the way back down the stairs. The old lady of the house smirked and winked as they approached the front door. “That was fast, gentlemen. That’s easy money for my girls. Next time, one of you comes for half the price.”

/>   “Hey, it was our first time,” Aayu said.

  “Sure it was, son. I’ve heard that one before.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Don’t worry about it. Believe me, it’s no problem.”

  Aayu couldn’t seem to stop himself, “To tell the truth, my friend couldn’t, you know, get excited. I’m the one who went too fast.”

  “Don’t feel bad about it, son, it’s your money,” she said as she winked and opened the door.

  Rao erupted into laughter as the door closed behind them. The two walked through the dirt alley together, laughing despite their watering eyes.

  Chapter 85: In Requie

  Remaes, Rezzia.

  ONE HUNDRED CONCENTRIC WHITE CIRCLES rose and widened out above her, hardened clay rows of seating filled with countless thousands of grieving pilgrims. Far above, at ground level, ten shaggy palms formed a great circle; their leaves shook in the gentle wind. The bones of kings and Haizzem had been buried here for centuries, but never before had the remains of a Haizzem so young been brought to The Reveria.

  Lucia stood in its center, at its lowest level. A hole had been dug in the cracked clay floor. She held two jars of human remains, one painted maroon and yellow, the other green and blue.

  The Reveria hummed with quiet prayers the faithful muttered to themselves. The smoke of sweet incense rose to the sky. Lucia looked to silver-haired Tiberio, The Exalted, seated on the first row above her, next to his most powerful warpriests. She awaited the signal to begin. Tiberio brought his hands together in prayer.

  Lucia tried to remember the words she wanted to speak. She tried to conceal her own tears, quickly wiping them away with her bare hands and forearms.

  I’m tired of hiding.

  She released her shoulders, dropped her chin to her chest, and raised her head again as she began to sob. She soon heard her people sobbing with her.

  After a long silence, she began to speak.

  “A sister should not have to bury her brother along with her father. Men should not die from pestilence. Parents should not lose their children to wars.”