The Black God's War (5 page)

“You could never offend me, Ilario. It’s only that … until this I’ve always enjoyed doing the things that were expected of me.”

“Your father’s put a lot of faith in you. You cannot disappoint him.”

They entered the grove and came upon a unit of ten soldiers resting. Ilario commanded them to rise. The men stood and bowed, muttering, “Havah ilz avah Haizzem.”

Ilario waved his hands. “Clear out.”

“Yes, sir.” They hurried away. One of them walked up to Caio and bowed his head to receive the Haizzem’s blessing before continuing on.

Ilario and Caio sat against the trees, and Ilario threw Caio a waterskin. Ilario lifted his and filled his dry mouth with hot water. He took another sip and spat it back out. “We should’ve refilled at the river first.” Ilario said. He met Caio’s eyes.

Caio’s voice was kind, as ever. “My friend, I know there’s something else weighing on you.”

Ilario looked down and mashed his lips together.
I hope you don’t—

“You’re worried about someone you love,” Caio said.

Please don’t.

“You know,” Caio continued, “I’ve been thinking a lot about Lucia. She’s certainly brave, supporting our army without my father’s help—or mine. What does she know about war?”

“Lucia’s trained for this. She carries Ysa’s sword and shield. Her goddess will keep her safe until we arrive.”

Caio looked at Ilario with understanding eyes. “Are you worried about her?”

Gods! It’s so hard to hide anything from you.

Caio continued, “Let’s continue to speak freely. Do you have feelings for her? You know you can tell me the truth, and I wish you would before we reach the canyon.”

The truth was that Ilario couldn’t wait to see her again. Ironically, the war could give him the chance to finally spend meaningful time with her. Lucia had spent most of the last nine years visiting the provinces, maintaining her father’s alliances. Every time she returned to Remaes, Ilario had been involved with other women. Now he was determined to tell her how he felt—even though he knew it wouldn’t make any difference in the end. She deserved someone better than him, someone with status, someone who could devote the time to her she deserved.

“Ilario, I wouldn’t judge you. Believe me, I’d much rather see Lucia with you than with someone I barely know.”

Impossible.
“I can’t talk about this, my Haizzem.”
She’s your sister.

“Know that you would have my blessing.”

It would be an insult to your father after all he’s done for me.

“And my father loves you like a son,” Caio said.

“Please. I can’t.”

Caio nodded in defeat.

Ilario wiped his brow with the hard muscles of his arms. Despite his marjoram and cardamom scented oils, he still reeked of sweat. “Shall we go back?”

“Give me a little more time. I like it here. This reminds me of when we went to Gallikos.”

With Lucia.

Ilario heard voices approaching from the river and surged to his feet. He gripped the pommel of his sword at his hip as he searched through the trees. “Caio, it’s your father.”

Caio put one hand on Ilario’s shoulder and leaned against him. “Just remember I wouldn’t judge you.”

Ilario’s heart filled with relief and guilt at the same time.

The king approached with two warpriests and two soldiers at his side. He wore a long, loose tunic, maroon with yellow stitching at his shoulders and down the center of his chest.

Ilario knelt and bowed his head.

“Ilario, I take it my son came here to rest?”

“Yes, my King.”

“Then I hope you don’t mind my presence. Soon enough, we won’t have opportunities like this.”

Caio clasped his father’s forearm, as his father clasped his. “Of course you’re welcome here, Father. I’m glad you’ve come.”

“Please stand, Ilario.” The king motioned the soldiers and warpriests away. He glanced up at the canopy of trees. “Such a pleasant oasis.”

Vieri removed a sealed parchment from his belt and handed it to Caio. “It’s from your sister. The messenger told me she wrote it yesterday, first thing in the morning. She asked him to ride as fast as he could. It’s addressed strictly to you.”

“Thank you.” Caio broke the red wax seal, unfolded Lucia’s letter, and scanned it. “It’s a bit long. I’ll read it soon.” He folded the paper and tucked it into his belt.

“There’s something I need to tell you both, something I am going to need your help with,” the king said. “When I was in Remaes, Tiberio told me something disturbing.” His eyes turned glassy as he diverted his gaze. “He sensed some sort of darkness around Lucia. He told me I should search out the cause of her suffering.”

Ilario felt his blood surging with anger. He clutched the black anvil hanging off his necklace, and asked his family’s god Sansone to protect her.

“Tiberio’s words were cryptic, but he suggested that I am partly to blame for her affliction.” Vieri’s unfocused eyes rolled around, gazing at the landscape. “It seems absurd. But I will need you to look out for her, Son. And you, Ilario.”

“Certainly, my King,” Ilario said with his jaw tight.

Caio’s wide eyes looked devastated. “Of course I will. I’ll also pray to Mya to give Lucia comfort, and ask Lord Oderigo for insight.”

“Very good,” his father answered quickly. “You’ll let me know whatever you discover.”

“Do you know anything else about her condition, my King?” Ilario asked.

“The Exalted told me three days ago that he believed Lucia had not been harmed in battle. He described the dark force as something of a mystery, even to his profound sight. I have put my trust in the goddess Ysa to protect my daughter, and I have faith that she will. Let’s speak of this no more. Worrying will do us no good.”

Neither will ignoring this
, Ilario thought.

King Vieri put his hands behind his back and stepped around the clearing, looking up at the greenery. “Now tell me something, Dux Spiritus, how does it feel to finally have a hundred thousand warriors at your disposal?”

Ilario heard a hint of jealousy in the king’s voice. Only two days before, Vieri had relinquished his position as Dux Spiritus to his son, after being Rezzia’s military leader for nearly thirty years.

“It’s different, Father … It’s entirely new.”

“I should hope it’s more thrilling than that.”

“I mean no disrespect,” Caio said. “You know I am honored that you’ve put so much faith in me.”

Vieri looked down at his son with his sad, brown eyes. “My decision required no faith at all.” He walked to Caio and held up his son’s red and black hands. “These are the hands of a Haizzem. The gods promise us you will succeed where I have not.”

“Pawelon is a worthy foe.”

Vieri dropped Caio’s hands and intensified his stare. “They shouldn’t be. Pawelon is where your legacy begins.”

“And where yours will continue,” Caio said.

The king kept his eyes on his son. “Ilario, you know Caio so much better than I. Do you truly feel he is ready for this glory?”

“Our Haizzem will not disappoint you, my King. He amazes me more every day. He will surely make you proud.”

“I am sure of it, too.” Vieri turned his eyes to Ilario. “Thank you again for being like a brother to him while I was at war. I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

“Of course. It has always been the highest honor and a joy.”

The king stepped to Ilario and they grabbed each other’s forearms. “I chose well. You were the right man. Never hesitate to ask me for anything you need.”

“You honor me again. I will never be able to thank you enough for all you’ve given me.”

“Do this for me, then. Make sure my son is ready for this war. My legacy depends on it.”

Chapter 5: The Furies

The day after the Dux Spiritus ceremony.

EXHAUSTED FROM THE DAY’S CARNAGE, Lucia wrapped herself in white sheets and prayed to the goddess Ysa before resigning herself to another unbearable night. After a long, somber quiet she was not yet aware the cloth had become soaked in red; she would need time to understand why.

As Lucia lay in sheer darkness, the voice of the god Danato rumbled all around her: “Don’t you hear me, my daughter?”

Why do you even ask?

“Why do you not answer your Lord?”

Because you’ve invaded my bed and my dreams? Damn you for making me feel ill again!

“Only one god dwells in the dark. Do you believe I wished to be him?”

More gods-damned theology.

“I did not. I chose the lot I had to choose. This is the nature of free will, for both gods and men. Choosing and wishing are not the same. Soon you and your brother will know this, too.”

How long can a narcissistic god talk to himself?

“If none of us had chosen to live in the underworld, you would have no gods or goddesses. My sister Ysa could not exist without me. Remember, you are called to worship us all.”

And I neither wished for that, nor chose it.

“We chose Rezzia and made your people special. We gave you religion and noble purpose. We watch over you. Yet you reject me, Lucia.”

You traumatized an innocent girl and want to be worshiped? Perhaps it’s forgiveness you’re after? I still remember the sensation of my own flesh burning, even though it was
only
a dream.

“The truth is that I love you, now and forever. Sleep deeper, my daughter. Sleep deeper.”

Lucia awoke to eerie sunlight shining through the canopy of her royal yurt, and was appalled to find a crowd waiting for her. Ten Rezzian guards stood in their cream tunics, with their backs turned to her bed. With their identical wide belts and sheathed swords, it was impossible to tell them apart.

She bolted upright and tightened her robe. “What is this?” As she ran her fingers through her long hair, she found all of it soaked with sweat. A rotten, sweet odor filled the air.

The guards moved to either side of the yurt, giving her a view of a tattered family of four—more sufferers of the new plague. They sat with their legs folded and stared down shamefully at the palatial rug. The little boy and girl leaned against their mother, their bare feet twitching.

“We couldn’t leave them outside,” a soldier said.

The father lifted his head slightly, but kept his gaze downward. “Your Grace, we are dying. We need a miracle from our Haizzem. Can
you
grant us the gods’ mercy? At least heal our children, if nothing more. Please!”

“He will be here soon. My brother will surely heal you.” Lucia stood up and itched to do it herself.

“We can’t wait days. Last night my son stopped breathing. We were sure he had died. He’s still with us, but for how long? His episodes come at all times. Please!”

“Our only son,” the mother said with a whimper.

“I can pray for you,” Lucia said, “but you may still need to wait. Our Haizzem is leaving Remaes this morning. He should arrive in no more than six days.” She took a few steps toward them.

The nearest soldier partially blocked her path. “It is not safe, Your Grace. Please stay where you are.”

The boy, no older than four, fell forward onto his stomach. He choked, fighting to suck in air, but his lungs wouldn’t expand. His arms flailed as his parents dropped to their knees and put their hands on his body.

Lucia ran to the boy and lifted him into her arms. His tiny face flushed with pain and begged her to save him.

Ysa, this child is innocent. Whatever the reason for this plague, it had nothing to do with him. Grant him your grace
.

The boy went limp, his little head hanging off her elbow.

Lucia’s blood pulsed with indignation as she heard Lord Danato’s voice again.

“They are dying, Lucia. Children, parents, grandparents, and soldiers. Sadly, this boy will die soon, too. But there is a reason for all things.”