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

   

  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. He 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 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 somehow knew 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 Fourteen: A Rival to the Gods

   

   

  Moments earlier.

   

  ILARIO WATCHED SPARKS OF LIGHTING 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 soldier, 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.

  “Damn, Caio! How could you do this? How could you be so irresponsible?”

  “I could not let this boy die! You don’t understand how much he has to live for.”

  “Just one time, Caio. Just once. You’ve gone and used your power. How could you!”

  Caio pushed himself up, revealing a long, bleeding gash on one side of his chest.

  Ilario rushed to him and covered him with his cloak. “Lay down, Caio. You’re losing a lot blood.”

  Lucia came forward and knelt beside her brother. Her red face turned pale. “I am sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “We’re going to take care of you.” Ilario held the cloth to Caio’s chest and watched the blood run down his hands. “Don’t worry.”

  Lord Sansone, let him be all right.

  Ilario glanced at the Pawelon. The boy stared at the ground with his mouth open, looking too stunned to move.

  Caio’s eyes opened wider in a defenseless, humble expression. “If anything happens to me, remember what I said to you. You should be happy together.”

  “Caio, don’t talk like that.” A sickening taste forced its way up Ilario’s throat and into his mouth. “Stay with us, Caio. We need you.”

  What the hell have you gods done to him? All he’s ever done is worship you.

  Caio opened his eyes. “I feel Mya’s healing presence.”

  Lucia’s breathing was out of control. “Tell her you want to live.”

  “I couldn’t let him die. I couldn’t live with myself if I did.”

  Lucia’s eyes softened.

  “Stay with me, here and now,” Ilario said. “Focus on your healing.”

  The warpriests had encircled them. They sat up from their prostrations and one of them began chanting a hypnotic prayer. The others joined in, uttering the specific, harsh sounds of the old tongue. Lucia placed her hands beside Ilario’s on Caio’s chest.

  Ilario prayed in silent anguish
to the backdrop of chanting, watching Caio smile despite his suffering. He looked down again and fought the churning nausea in his stomach as he watched the Haizzem’s dark red blood stain his hands.

  Chapter Fifteen: The Quieting of the Gods

   

   

  HEARING THE WARPRIESTS’ resonant intoning gave Caio tranquil distraction from the guilt and doubts thumping inside his breast. He felt Mya’s invisible hands over his wound, soothing the bloody sting. Her spirit filled him like a cool spray of water tumbling off the canyon’s edge.

  Invigorated, Caio sat up on one knee. Ilario rested a heavy hand on his shoulder, his light brown eyes full of concern. Caio stood, ignoring the pain still burning in his chest.

  Ilario rose with him. “Don’t strain. Your duty is done.”

  “We’ll call off the offensive.” Lucia leaned against Caio and kissed his cheek, rekindling his will to press on.

  “I can still pray. My body suffers, but my spirit soars.” Each word Caio spoke intensified the pain in his chest. “These deaths should not be for nothing. We will push on.”

  The young Pawelon gazed at the spacious sky. Caio sensed everything the boy was feeling: stillness, gratitude, and wonder.

  Caio addressed the boy in his own language. “Now you know the peace of death.”

  “What happened to me?”

  “The gods of Lux Lucis brought you back to us. Your life means too much for it to end today.”

  The soldier came to his feet and staggered around, calmly viewing his fallen allies. “These men … they are in a better place now.” He turned his eyes to Caio and stared. “Are you … ?”

  “I am the Haizzem.”

  “You saved my life.”

  “I want you to return to your people. My army is coming. We intend to end the war today. You won’t be safe unless you leave the area. Go north until you reach the lake. Wait there, and return to your people some other day.” Caio coughed, causing hot daggers to stab his chest. “I’ve seen your future. You must live. You have so much to live for.”

  “I owe you my life … so I will do as you say.” The boy pursed his lips, deciding something. “My army will soon realize something is wrong. That we are not communicating with them. Only our sages can send signals back to them.”

  “Thank you,” Caio bowed as he spoke. “My brother, not all of us believe in this war. I, for one, do not.”

  “Then go home. Go back to your lands and leave my people alone. If you are the Haizzem, why don’t you make them all go?”

  Ilario was still holding his cloak to Caio’s wounds. He interrupted, speaking the Pawelon language with some difficulty. “Because this world is not yet right. Look how your people suffer. You believe in no greater power than yourselves, and look at the results. You live like pigs. You suffer—”

  “And you mean to help my people? You wish to see us suffer less? We are happier than you think—”

  Caio interrupted, “My father believes this war to be a religious act.”

  “Don’t you command this army now? Take your people home. Let us all live.”

  Ilario spoke again, “Then you would come after us.”

  “We would not!”

  Lucia commanded everyone’s attention: “Our people believe it’s the gods’ will that we wage this war, because they want us to better our world. But if Rezzia is not guided by the gods of Lux Lucis, we will not conquer Pawelon. Soon, we will know what the gods wish for.” She looked at Caio, and he understood her meaning: Lord Danato’s vision, Caio’s abilities, and the favor of the gods would be put to the test on this day.

  “You, Haizzem,” the boy said, “you have such power. You should follow your own truth.”

  Maybe you’re right.

  The boy had named the outcome Caio wanted most: a retreat with no further casualties. The young Pawelon could be the last to die in the war, even though he now lived. The miracle of life given back to him could be such a worthy, symbolic act if his resurrection were to be the final turning point in the war. How many lives could be saved?

  But it’s impossible.

  The entire nation of Rezzia, as well as its army, expected the fighting to crescendo now that he was Dux Spiritus. History, tradition, and even scripture gave him a mission to fulfill, made necessary by his father’s sacrifice. He was the son of King Vieri, the Dux Spiritus of Rezzia, the Haizzem of their faith, and no one in his proud nation would be willing to see him lose. He had only one option, an already decided fate—and I despise that with my whole heart and soul.

  “Go!” Caio pointed north at the sun. The star blazed wine-red in the early morning haze. “Go north to the shore. Our armies are approaching. Run as fast as you can. Live for tomorrow. Live out your life!”

  The boy walked away, then turned around again, out of words. His gape showed his sadness and rage. He glanced at the warpriests before racing toward the sun.

  “If you insist on going forward,” Lucia said, “we should pray for a great rain to conceal our advance. Now.”

  Mya …

  The Rezzian army could barely be heard marching in from the east. A gust of dry heat blew across the land as pregnant clouds formed and distant thunder rumbled.

  Afterword

  If you’ve read this far, then you’ve read 15 of the early chapters of The Black God’s War. The full novel, which is now available, is 85 chapters long. In order to put together this novella-length story, I chose to leave out six of the early chapters that show the Pawelon side of the war. In the novel, the major Pawelon characters (you’ve met only three of them briefly: Rao, Indrajit, and Briraji) are just as important as the Rezzians and they are introduced after the Rezzians beginning in chapter six. Of course, I love all my characters equally, so it was hard to leave Narayani, Aayu, and Devak out of the novella. I hope they’ll forgive me (and you, too).

  For this novella, I decided to cover one story arc from the novel: Caio and his ability to resurrect one person from death. I hope this was a satisfying ending for you.

  This is my first attempt at writing publishable fiction, so I welcome your feedback. I hope to be able to continue doing this for a long time, improving with each effort.

  If you’d like to subscribe to my newsletter for updates about future releases, you can email me at [email protected] with SUBSCRIBE BOOK NEWS in the subject heading. Or you can subscribe at my blog to get email notifications of every new blog post: www.ScienceFictionFantasyBooks.net. You can also find my Twitter, Facebook, GoodReads, Shelfari, YouTube, and other social networking links on my blog.

  Thanks so much for reading this story.

  Acknowledgments

  Without the following people and websites, this work would not be as it is today. I thank you all from my heart and I also thank everyone who has supported or challenged me on this journey.

  In alphabetical order:

  AbsoluteWrite, Authonomy, Brandon Sanderson, Chuck Taylor, Clancy Metzger, Colette Vernon, Colton Goodrich, Craig Saunders, Critters.org, D.T. Conklin, Damien Stolarz, David Anthony Durham, David Dalglish, David Farland, David Kerschner, Debra L. Martin, D.P. Prior, Evan Braun, Grace Siregar, J.A. Konrath, Jillian Sheridan, Joshua Essoe, K.C. May, Kevin J Anderson, Kylie Quillinan, Lane Diamond, Laura Resnick, Leah Petersen, Leigh Galbreath, Lenny Gredel, Libbie Mistretta, Michael Tobias Herbert, Molly Siregar, Nikki Neal, Rebecca Moesta, Rich W. Ware, Scott Nicholson, Steven Forrest, Tania Gilchrist, William Campbell, and Zoe Winters.

  Double thanks go out to my nimble copyeditor, Jillian Sheridan, and my other editors D.P. Prior and Joshua Essoe.

  The writing of this story was powered by the album The Hazards of Love by The Decemberists. The editing was powered mainly by Black Symphony by Within Temptation. While writing it, I also listened to this playlist:

  Lose Yourself, Eminem

  Hurt, Johnny Cash

  No Quarter (Live), Led Zeppelin

  Grux & Shake Me Like a Monkey, Dave Matthews Band

  Bard’s Cur
se, Kit Soden

  Won’t Want for Love (Margaret in the Taiga), The Decemberists

  Boy With a Coin, Iron & Wine

  Catch and Release, Silversun Pickups

  Joni(Stardust), Jozef Slanda

  Different World & The Pilgrim & The Reincarnation of Benjamin Breeg, Iron Maiden

  I don’t know if I could write a novel without music, so I want to say thanks to these musicians and the muses who inspired them.

  About the Author

  When I was ten, I fell in love with an anime series: a space opera spanning three human generations, a saga that unfolded over 85 consecutive episodes and four months of after-school TV. Watching Robotech was a spiritual experience for me. I still remember how high I felt after watching the final episode for the first time.

  That’s when I decided I wanted to be a storyteller someday, hoping to inspire other people as Robotech inspired me. A few years ago, I finally got back around to my heart’s desire when I was a boy: telling the big story.

  I’ve never had so much fun.

  Thank you for reading books on Archive.BookFrom.Net
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