The Black God's War (44 page)

“Your father offered to give back to us my lady Narayani in exchange for you. Our general and my father said no.”

“How did my father capture her? I have to tell you, I saw her there, interfering with your combat.”

For the first time, the prince looked afraid. “What do you mean you saw her?”

“I saw her arguing with my brother. She saved your life.”

The prince’s face stretched long in shock. “I have to go now. I want you to consider something. Remember I did not hurt you or kill you the first two times I had the chance—”

“Except when your friend tried to smash my face.”

“We were defending ourselves. You came for us. Your Grace, I want to work with you.” The prince looked around the room and continued speaking in Rezzian, as before, “My general has his own ideas. Your father does, too. But think about what we can do together to end this war. Consider this.”

Lucia watched Prince Rao exit the room without another glance or word for her. She needed more time to think over their conversation.

Chapter 67: The Measure of Old Dreams

DUILIO FELT GRATEFUL staring at the jagged stone walls of his ancient prison cell. The old Strategos had been granted another miracle, another day of life. He had a bench to sit on, a bit of water to drink, and a little bowl of lentil soup, even if it hadn’t been seasoned with any of those wonderful Pawelon spices.

He had been stripped of everything. His horse and armor and weapons, even his necklace bearing the ivory symbol of Lord Cosimo. His dear father had given it to him during his youth, in an era that felt as if it occurred many lifetimes ago.

In his solitude, away from soldiers and weapons and unbearable sun and a king and his two royal children, Duilio found his entire life to be a wispy memory, something once so important: every love, every pain, every near-sighted hope and dream. Had those old dreams mattered? Attaining his station? Raising three beloved children? Winning a war? He couldn’t decide. Either those old dreams had mattered not one bit, or their measure was and always would be boundless.

Now, on what could be the last day of his life—he still didn’t know what the Pawelons would do with him—he felt grateful for another breath of air, however soiled by stale urine and new feces, because each breath gave him another chance to remember his god, The Lord of Miracles, and to hope he was a worthy recipient of Cosimo’s divine grace.

Footsteps and low voices sounded from outside his cell. The act of sitting up reminded Duilio how emaciated he felt by his impoverished conditions. It was a hoary creak, the moan of the door’s hinges. He wondered how many centuries the metal had labored.

General Indrajit entered. Duilio stood and bowed his head just enough to salute him. The enormous rajah entered the room after the general.

The two Pawelon men stood side by side, a little closer to the cell than to the center of the room, close enough to be intimate, but not uncomfortably so.

“I have a question,” the rajah said in his rumbling voice. “We have taken the king’s daughter—”

“Lucia?”

Rajah Devak nodded. “I threatened King Vieri, told him that if he does not retreat I will do unthinkable things to her.”

The rajah’s threat reminded Duilio how many horrors were committed in the dark corners of their world.

“Your king replied,” the rajah continued, “saying if we lay a finger on his daughter, he will not stop until every Pawelon woman and child is a Rezzian slave, until every man and every bit of Pawelon culture is gone.”

Rajah Devak took two more steps toward Duilio. “Tell me, knowing how we have threatened him, would King Vieri attack us again?”

Duilio licked his lips and realized he was probably smiling. “Vieri loves his son and his daughter. He also loves his war. I am sorry. I really can’t tell you which he loves more.”

Chapter 68: Choosing War or Peace

CAIO WANDERED THROUGH THE DESERT VALLEY under the dome of night, toward Pawelon’s citadel. The moon filled the canyon with sparkling white light, illuminating each tiny leaf and red stone. He hiked up the northern route to the fortress and closed the distance with ease.

The goddess Mya beckoned him toward the massive citadel with a wave of her hand, her pale back facing Caio as she walked in front of him.

“Mya, wait for me.”

The goddess maintained her steady pace. Caio ran. Her soft shoulders reflected the milky light of the moon. Once Caio reached her, she stopped and looked up at the great stone walls.

Keeping her gaze upon the Pawelon fortress, she asked, “What is your wish, my son?”

“I want Lucia back safely. And I want to make my decision, to choose either war or peace.”

“I can help you have whichever you wish.” Mya paused. “My son, if you would destroy your enemy’s citadel, witness how I would have it done.”

Mya moved no limb, nor diverted her gaze, but her hair and the leaves of her vine dress flew and fluttered in the sudden storm. The enchanting light of the moon was eclipsed behind expanding brown clouds condensing out of a clear, black sky. The scent of heavy rain blew on the gusting wind.

Caio pulled his
cremos
robe more tightly around himself just as the storm’s rains began to pound the hard desert. A wicked squall knocked him down, flat against the earth. The storm wailed and howled like the fury of the god Lord Danato himself. Caio found himself unable to stand upright in the wind. He crawled through the downpour to a rock formation and wedged himself between two boulders leaning into each other.

Unrelenting waves of rain crashed against the citadel’s walls like a swell devouring a child’s sand castle. Mya’s form had already vanished.

A square section of the leading wall broke down and collapsed, spilling rock onto the ground. The hole grew larger with each gust from the storm, until the east-facing wall disintegrated into a mass of rubble.

Caio awoke lying on his side, with warm, smooth legs rubbing against his own. A moment later, he felt Narayani pressing her chest against his back, draping an arm over his body. He turned over and smiled.

She smiled back. “Did you have any dreams?”

He remembered the storm against the citadel. “Yes,” he said.

Caio held Narayani close and felt her heart, both physically and spiritually. He sensed all of her emotional swings, more acutely than he had with anyone he’d ever known.

He knew she felt safe with him in that moment, but she remained confused about whether she could remain with him. She would need to confront those emotions later. Not now. Her instinct for survival motivated her to make love with him and to heal him, but he knew she felt love for him and might consider remaining with him.

“I can’t remember if I had dreams,” she said.

You did. You dreamt of Rao. You were at a beach with him. You were happy together.

She lowered her lips to Caio’s neck and left a soft kiss. Then another. Another …

“My Haizzem!” a man’s voice from outside the yurt interrupted them. “Forgive me. Your father wishes to see you immediately. He is at the pavilion.”

“Very well. I’ll be there soon.”

Caio tried to pull away from Narayani, but she held onto his painted arms.

“Don’t go,” she said.

“You are safe here. I’ll return as soon as I can.”

The light pouring in through the ceiling indicated the morning was young. Narayani threw off the sheet and lay on her side in the nude, facing him. Caio dressed himself in a long, light blue tunic and walked to his altar.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

“Even better today. Thank you for what you’ve done.”

He splashed scented oils on his skin and tunic and stared at The Book of Time. Though he had thrown the book against a wall three days ago, its spine showed no sign of tearing.

He knelt and prayed to Mya and Oderigo, prostrating and kneeling, prostrating and kneeling, prostrating and kneeling.

When he stood up, Narayani was clutching a pillow against her chest with a trickle of tears wetting her face. He sensed what was in her heart: she worried he would not come back.

He sat on the bed beside her and caressed her hair and cheeks. “I command these men. This is my army, and I will not let anything happen to you.”

She sniffled and gazed at him with those dark, sensual eyes. He pulled some of her wet hair away from her cheek.

“There’s plenty of fruit and bread on the table. Eat as much as you like. You
can
trust me, Narayani. I care about you.”

Caio kissed her forehead and exited his yurt. The soldiers knelt all around him. He blessed them, touching the their heads while thinking of the gods.

“I am your Dux Spiritus and you will obey me. Let no one enter my yurt until I return. This is an irrevocable order. Is this understood?”

“Yes, my Haizzem,” they said together.

“It is also very important that you not let her out for any reason, no matter what she says. She has everything she needs inside that room. She has food. She has water. She has everything she needs for hygiene. She has the power to conceal herself so that you cannot see her. Do not open the door, no matter what she says.”

The guards agreed.

Caio began the walk with a contingent of ten soldiers around him. His muscles felt almost normal again, just a bit sore, after just two full days with Narayani.

He asked the soldiers accompanying him how they fared, and comforted two of them who had not seen their families in years. He asked the men to join him in praying that they would meet their loved ones again soon. Caio prayed he would be alive when it happened.

He enjoyed the walk; it gave him time to contemplate everything happening with Narayani. Lucia’s last words still echoed in his mind: “
He (Lord Danato) said this war will not and cannot end before one of you dies—either you or Pawelon’s prince.”
If true, if Rao were the one to die, Narayani would need someone else to love and protect her. If she wished to remain with Caio in Rezzia, he might someday take her as his queen. Caio had never known such sweet intimacy.

His thoughts turned to Mya’s words.
“I want to make a decision,”
he told her in his dream.
“To choose either war or peace.”

“I can help you have whatever you wish,”
Mya told him.

He marveled at his words in the dream realm. In waking life, he had already made his decision. He found his father at the lookout and waved up at him. More soldiers lowered themselves to the ground in waves as Caio approached the stairs. He touched their heads and imparted the spirit of Lux Lucis to them.

“How do you feel, Son?” his father’s rich voice carried on the gentle wind.

“Healed, father,” he yelled as he began to climb. “She has healed me.”

His father said no other words until Caio met him. They exchanged a Rezzian handshake, grabbing each other’s right forearms. His father squeezed Caio’s uninjured shoulder and led him to the west-facing edge of the pavilion.

The sky opened out. An unusual panorama of white clouds spread out like wings embracing the heavens. The morning air remained crisp and cool against Caio’s skin. They stood side by side, staring at the Pawelon citadel in the distance.

Caio sensed his father wanted to convince him of something. If Caio’s guess was right, convincing him would not be difficult.

“Then you are ready for the next phase?” his father asked.

“I am ready for whatever comes next.”

“Have you had enough time to think over our last conversation?”

“I have. You are right, Father. We may never see Lucia again if we leave this valley. Who knows what cruel things they would do to her? If they are going to harm her, we must stop them. If she is suffering, we owe her that.”

His father smiled and glanced at him. “If our gods will not obey us now, with Lucia and Duilio in a Pawelon dungeon, then when? We can appeal to Ysa, too. The Protector of Man must be enraged.”