The Black God's War: A Novella Introducing a New Epic Fantasy Read online

  “And you deserve that. You … deserve the very best.” Why does everything coming out of my mouth sound stiff? “What else are you looking for?”

  Lucia stared at him even more intently, yielding the next move.

  “You probably want to marry,” Ilario said. “I know your father’s pressured you.”

  “I’ve had offers. The problem is that I would like to be happy, above all else. I haven’t found that anywhere.”

  “I think you will find it. I’m sure you will. And you will make one lucky man very, very happy.”

  Lucia looked away and ran her fingers along her face.

  “The journey from Remeas—” Ilario began to say.

  “What do you want for yourself, Ilario? You’ve had romances with a good number of ladies, haven’t you? Maybe you’re not cut out to be with just one woman.”

  Gods, this is my chance.

  “No, I think I am—I know I am. I would like to be with just one woman. She would have to be very special. But it seems my duty doesn’t really allow me the time.”

  Lucia looked away again, not quite hiding her disappointment.

  “But maybe,” he said.

  “Why maybe?”

  “I’m not sure. If the right woman came along. I don’t know. It doesn’t really make sense.”

  Lucia stared at him with a sharp, tender look in her eyes. A smile tugged at one corner of her mouth.

  “I’ve been thinking about you a lot, actually,” he said. Her smile widened, but she obviously wasn’t going to make this any easier for him. Ilario cleared his throat. “I really enjoyed being with you the last time we saw each other. I felt like I was finally beginning to know you.”

  She cupped one side of her face, from chin to ear, and waited for more.

  You want me to say it. All right.

  “I absolutely loved that time with you, Lucia. I would say I care for you, but that wouldn’t be proper for me to talk about, would it?”

  “Why not?”

  “Who am I to think about you? I’m the furthest thing from royal stock—I’m not even a native Rezzian. And your father employs me. I’ve thought about this more than you’ll ever know, but I’m already lucky to be so close to your family.”

  “You’re where you are because my father admires you. He knows your heart is good. My life is mine to live. Whatever I decide, my father will need to accept it. And he likes you.”

  Ilario lowered his shoulders along with his glance. “I respect your father. He’s given me so much. I could never do something to upset him. You couldn’t be with me, anyway.”

  “I can do whatever I want.” She patted the bed. “Come sit by me.”

  Ilario’s heart raced with excitement. All right. If that’s how you feel about it … I won’t be afraid either. Who knows? Maybe your father would approve. He already trusts me with his son’s life.

  He sat next to her and stared at her soft skin and proud face. Lucia looked as receptive to him as he’d ever seen, though her eyes were fearless. Ilario could barely breathe. No man could be worthy of you. But if you give me the chance, I would try.

  He leaned forward and kissed her. She met him without hesitation. Her lips were soft and confident; his lips tingled against her flesh. She responded to his forceful movements, answering with even greater passion.

  Ilario felt whole, reunited with some part of himself Lucia seemed to possess. He pulled her closer.

  She pulled away and squeezed his knee, looking deeply into his eyes.

  I want nothing more than to know the depths of your heart, Lucia.

  “We’d just have to start somewhere and then find out where things go,” she said.

  “That’s what I want. We need to defeat Pawelon and get out of this valley. Get back to Remaes, discuss this with your father, and,” he tried to win her over with his wide smile, “keep both you and Caio in the holy city.”

  After Lucia stood up, Ilario followed her lead. She embraced him, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist. “I’m very sorry,” she said. “We don’t have time now. We need to rest and wake early.”

  Right. If I can even get to sleep after this.

  “Pray that all goes well tomorrow,” she said.

  “I will pray to Lord Sansone for a swift victory. Lucia, I want to know you. I want to know things about you that no one else has ever known.”

  She kissed him again, with her sweet tongue exploring his mouth. He wrapped her up and pressed her full chest against his. Feeling her feminine strength against his body filled him with yearning. It’s been so long. She pushed him back with one hand, flashing her seductive smile.

  “Until the morning, beloved of Sansone. Help Caio. Give him confidence.”

  “I will.” Ilario glanced at Ysa’s armor with an enormous grin. “I can’t wait to see you wearing all of that.”

  She only winked and pushed him toward the doors.

  This is really happening.

  The doors shut behind him, and Ilario rejoined Caio. The young Haizzem had all of the guards laughing about something, but he turned right away and gleamed at Ilario with the purest acceptance.

  I love her, Caio.

  Chapter Twelve: The Earth Shaker and His Sea

   

   

  AFTER A BRIEF AND RESTLESS SLEEP, Caio journeyed out from the camp along with Lucia, Ilario, and ten warpriests selected by his father. The king declared the ten to be the most perfect spiritual warriors in the Rezzian army and gave them the task of protecting his children, no matter the cost.

  It hadn’t been easy for Caio to convince his father that he and Lucia should go out on such a dangerous mission, but appeals to faith and the appeal of Lucia’s strategy won the king over. Lucia reminded their father that Caio, as Dux Spiritus, had the right to pursue any tactics he chose, and that his son’s will was divine. Caio didn’t want to force his father to do anything.

  Caio sensed that his father couldn’t pass up the chance to have his Haizzem clear the way for his army; it was too great a tactical opportunity, and he was excited to see what his son could do. Vieri consented only after making them promise that if they encountered trouble, they would flee and let the warpriests sacrifice themselves to protect them.

  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 among 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 beside 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. 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 elbow. 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 clothes 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, her rod clenched in one hand, 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 Thirteen: 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 and he choked on cool water. Caio shoved the hand off his neck and tried to expel the liquid from his lungs.

  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.

   

  ~~~~~