The Black God's War (2 page)

Father, what are you doing!
she thought.
Be more careful with our savior
.

Lucia glanced down at her mother resting in the birthing pool. The queen’s black hair clung to her neck, all of it soaked by the holy waters.

“You did it, Mother!”

Kindness brightened her mother’s face. “Thank the gods, dear. You have a brother now. A very special
brother. Go, join your father and wave to the crowd.”

“You stay here and rest. I’ll wave to them on your behalf.”

Her mother laughed. “Thank you, Lucia. That sounds perfect.”

Lucia crept toward the archway leading to the balcony, which wrapped around the circular chamber. She squinted, fighting the midday sun. Tears soaked her father’s cheeks as he presented the pink baby to the faithful. Nature had tattooed thorny red and black vines on little Caio’s hands and forearms: the holy markings of the Haizzem.

As she gazed at Caio, a spiritual energy filled her body with peace and warmth. Her spirit soared.
The teachings are coming true!
A Haizzem had come again, to rescue all the world. Her brother would conquer Rezzia’s foes and bring the gods’ light to everyone.

Lucia skipped forward to participate in the royal scene. She looked down at tens of thousands of pilgrims in their cream robes and felt dizzy. The clay-white acropolis of the holy city sprawled across the desert plateau: massive domed structures, spiraling minarets, and temples of the ten gods supported by grand columns.

She clutched her father’s ceremonial
cremos
robe to steady herself. The fabric was bloodied; he had obeyed the scriptural commandment for Rezzia’s king to oversee the birth of his own Haizzem son. She felt so lucky, knowing every Rezzian alive would love to be in her place, touching the king’s garments and the words of divine power stitched into them.

Her father pressed the baby against his chest, and pushed Lucia backward with his free hand. He raised up baby Caio and beamed his joy again.

The rejection shattered Lucia’s bliss.

Her father’s face, with his heavy brown eyes and his perfectly trimmed beard, always showed his serious nature. But as he admired the baby—so high above the masses—he transformed, positively euphoric. He looked at Caio with such true love, a look Lucia had never, ever seen before.

Lucia’s vision darted from her father to her brother and back again.
Your love for me is a lie
. She dropped her head and long vermilion hair fell around her face. She wouldn’t cry. Not then. Not in front of him.

The crowd’s chanting grew louder and louder. They cried out in the old tongue, we love and adore him!

“Havah ilz avah Haizzem!”

“Havah ilz avah Haizzem!”

“Havah ilz avah Haizzem!”

Hearing their hypnotic praying, her pummeled heart found direction and clarity. The truth struck her as she watched the red-faced babe glowing against the sky: Her brother was divine. According to the warpriests’ teachings, it had been hundreds of years since a Haizzem graced the kingdom with his holy presence. They said Caio would possess spiritual gifts beyond compare, including the ultimate proof of his godliness: He would be able to resurrect one person from death during his lifetime.

I don’t matter anymore
. Her royal duty would be pure devotion to him. As his only sibling, she would always be there to provide whatever he needed. All of her divinely given powers from the goddess Ysa would serve him alone.

A deep voice rumbled from inside the chamber, startling her: “My dearest Lucia.”

The man’s tone upset her stomach. “Sweet Lucia, come see your mother.”

She turned, tugged on her father’s robe and pointed into the sacred chamber. “There’s a man in there!”

The chanting of the crowd grew louder. Her father pushed her away, harder this time.

“There’s a man in there!” Lucia stomped one foot and swung her fists through the air.

Her father ignored her again. She crept closer and peeked inside. A colossal man stood behind the now much bloodier waters of the birthing pool, looming above her mother. The black of his bald head and muscular arms was as dark as the leather he wore from his shoulders to his thighs. A single orange teardrop decorated the skin beneath his left eye. She recognized the face from scriptural stories: The Black One, the god Lord Danato.

“Your mother is going away forever.” Danato crossed one arm over his chest and put his other hand to his jutting chin. “Come, be with her while you can.”

Lucia breathed heavily with her mouth open. Her mother’s face had looked peaceful before—now it was tortured.

“Father, come quickly!”

King Vieri continued to hold Caio in the air, but turned his head to look at his daughter. “Everything is fine, Lucia.”

“No! There’s a man in here. Muh—Muh—Mother needs you!”

He lowered the newborn to his chest and waved to the crowd.

“Father, listen to me!”

As her father strolled into the chamber, all joy drained from his face. He ran straight to Lucia’s mother, never looking at the black god. The queen’s blood was reddening the holy pool.

“Don’t you see him?” Lucia asked.

Her father laid the baby on the stone floor.

Her mother opened her pained, bloodshot eyes.

Lord Danato sauntered toward the stairs that led to the attendants below.

With his hands on his wife’s sweating brow, her father prayed to his god.

“Lord Danato did this to her!” she screamed.

“Get help, Lucia!” Her father wouldn’t take his eyes off his queen’s face.

Danato stood in the archway between Lucia and the stairs, gazing at her with stony eyes.

“Lord Danato is there! Don’t you see him?”

“Stop your nonsense. Get help!”

Her mother screamed, a harrowing sound Lucia knew she’d never forget.

The baby cried.

Her father kept yelling at her.

Lucia froze. She watched her mother, feeling helpless and mute.

Danato’s voice boomed, “I am sorry, Lucia. There is a reason for all things.”

She looked down to avoid the god’s stare and squeezed her eyelids shut. She found the courage to look up again.

The Black One was gone.

Vieri pulled the queen’s lifeless body from the pool and squeezed it against his trembling chest. His wailing drowned the holy chamber in woe.

Lucia’s dreams of an idyllic life flew away from her, sucked into the black god’s tempest of dust.

Chapter 2: The Ten

Three years later.

“COME HERE, CAIO. Let me dress you.” Lucia lifted Caio’s infant
cremos
so he could see it. He looked up, but kept playing with his toys in the center of his room. She scanned the walls of her brother’s spacious chamber as she waited. The earthen white surfaces would be painted later this day, after Caio chose his patron god or goddess.

As Lucia approached him with the silky robe in hand, he scurried away with his toy horse gripped in his tiny fingers. “Come back here, silly boy.”

Caio dropped to his knees in the corner near his bed and let out his adorable laughter. Lucia stood over him and felt her heart warming as she savored the innocent sound.

“Come now. You need to wear this.”

“Aw.”

“No more joking. Father will be upset if you aren’t ready.”

Caio stood still and let Lucia pull the robe over his head. So excited for this day, Lucia had put on her own
cremos
robe earlier that morning.

Caio ran back to the rug. She followed and sat beside him.

“We’re going to the atrium and there will be lots of people there. Remember what I told you. A man with silver hair is going to ask you to pick your favorite statue of the gods. Whoever you choose will be your special deity for the rest of your life.”

“Can you help me?”

“No. This is very important. Just choose whoever you like the most. Any god you pick is good—except for the one with no hair. He is very mean, Caio. Do you understand me? Don’t pick the man with no hair.”

“Yes, Lucie.”

“Good. It will be very easy. Very, very easy.”

Lucia played with Caio as they waited for their father. They pretended his toy animals were being fed by the goddess Jacopa, the mother of nature’s abundance.

The arched, wooden door creaked as it opened and her father entered the room with a satisfied gleam in his eyes. Lucia smiled at seeing him happy, a rare sight since her mother’s death.

“There’s my special son!” Her father squatted as Caio ran to him squealing with joy. “On his special day.” Vieri pressed the side of Caio’s face against his chest and hugged his tiny body. “Ready?” he asked her.

“Yes. Can I hold Caio’s hand and lead him? He’ll be more comfortable—”

“No.” He shook his head as if she’d asked an ignorant question. “Our people will want to see him with me.”

I’m the one who
takes care of him
, she wanted to say.
You should let me do it.

“Caio, has Lucia explained what is going to happen?”

“Yes.” Caio nodded his head vigorously.

“Good. Put your hands together like this and pray with me. Good.”

Lucia knelt and did the same, thinking it’s what her father would want her to do.

“We pray to you, The Ten of Lux Lucis, to lead Caio to his ideal patron today. My Lord Galleazzo, we pray thy will be done.” He prayed to his chosen deity, the god of most Rezzian kings.

King Vieri stood, lifted Caio into his arms, and carried him out of the room. Lucia followed behind them so her father wouldn’t see any disappointment on her face. Her father’s heavy footsteps echoed through the wide clay halls, while Caio talked to himself in his tiny voice.

Muscled soldiers guarded each corner, standing with stately posture. Lucia tried not to stare at them, but she found their sculpted bodies too tempting to ignore. As usual, the soldiers did not look back.

As they wound through the holy palace toward the atrium, the chanting and commotion of the pilgrims grew louder, as if they were coming upon a great waterfall of human voices.

The king stopped at the twisting stairs leading down to the cavernous hall. Lucia peered through the cloud of sweet incense. Directly beneath the circular opening in the clay roof, dim sunlight reflected off the clear pool. On the other side of the stone path around the water, the ten alabaster statues of the gods towered over thousands of devotees.

Religious ceremonies typically required worshipers to wear their sacred cream
cremos
robes to honor the unity of The Gods of Light. But on this day, the people celebrated the diversity of the gods with dress unique to each divinity.

From below, a powerful voice shouted the prayer, “Havah ilz avah Haizzem!” The crowd of hundreds repeated after him before they observed silence.

Lucia followed her father down the wide steps. A gathering of dignitaries received them at the landing. She recognized some of the most senior warpriests, bald men in loose, white tunics that covered all but their hands and feet. She recognized the three highest-ranking Strategoi, military commanders in tasseled red uniforms; one of them, a cheerful man with curly hair, winked at her. Tiberio, the highest warpriest, The Exalted, stepped forward muttering prayers and sprinkled holy water on Caio’s forehead.

Tiberio took Caio and carried the young Haizzem through the crowd. Lucia followed beside her father. They walked past worshipers of the goddess Vani. Those men and women jumped in place with their hands in the air, wearing colorful jewelry and crowns made of lavender flowers. One of them caressed Lucia’s hair as she walked past.

Silver-haired Tiberio led them toward the pool and statues, to the front of the crowd, between the statues of Lord Galleazzo and his wife, the goddess Jacopa. By the statue of Galleazzo, the stately followers of her father’s patron god wore golden sashes across one shoulder, over their short white tunics and leather girdles. They bowed to their king and then kept their heads low.

The barefoot devotees of the goddess Jacopa mostly wore primitive dress, earthy, non-dyed clothing. Each of them held either a pomegranate or an orange. Lucia assumed they brought the fruits to give to Caio if he chose their goddess.

The statues of Lord Danato and his sister the goddess Ysa stood across the circle. Lucia gave a quick glance at the bald, black-clothed devotees of Lord Danato. Many of them had a tattoo of an orange tear beneath their left eyes. Seeing them, Lucia felt unclean beneath her skin.

She focused on the devotees of the goddess Ysa, her patron goddess, The Protector of Man. The men and women who worshiped Ysa wore red metal circles in their earlobes and clean yellow dresses or tunics. The metal symbolized the goddess’s holy shield, a relic Lucia knew she would be entrusted with some day.

Tiberio placed Caio on the ground before the statue of Lord Galleazzo, the traditional choice for a future king. “Choose your god, young Haizzem.” Tiberio sprinkled more holy water over Caio and stepped back, still muttering prayers.