The Black God's War (11 page)

The brothers Fulvio and Forese, sons of the wealthiest family in Rezzia, from the Lympia province made fertile by the goddess Jacopa. Giunto, the protector of windy Petrus’s walled cities, so feared by the scavenging clans who were Petrus’s enemies. Wandering Belincion, leader of a mysterious order of men and women devoted to the goddess Vani. And from the empty, lifeless region of Satrina came Pexaro, slovenly cousin to Lucia’s father, who brought with him a constant stream of deadly spear throwers.

“Is it possible they outnumber us?” said a voice from the chorus.

“It is possible. Yes,” Duilio answered. “Their numbers are a mystery, but our scouts estimate their forces to be relatively equal to our own.”

Mighty Tirso barked from beneath his red-plumed helm, “It wouldn’t matter if they outnumbered us three to one. Once we close with them, their spearmen will be no match for our swords.”

Giunto slammed the butt of his throwing spear into the ground. “Our Haizzem ascends to Dux Spiritus and, look, our prayers have been answered. We have a chance to fight the pigs on a real battlefield, as if they were not cowards for just one day.”

“But our position is a disadvantage,” Belincion said in placid tones. “They come from the north and the south.”

“No,” Giunto answered, “we still have strategic options if we act quickly.”

Tirso explained, “Move the bulk of our troops either directly north or south, being sure to keep the Pawelons in front of us. They will not dance with us all day. When they close in, we will not find ourselves caught between them.”

“And that would be suicide for our camp,” Vani countered. “Our food and water. Our tents and supplies. The wounded and the servants could all be killed.”

Tirso stepped toward Belincion and leaned his spear forward. “Only if they keep their forces split, giving us an overwhelming advantage against whatever they send against us. We still have reserve men and warpriests at the camp.”

“And that could mean total victory for Rezzia.” Giunto’s expressive face shone with courage. “Praises to the gods of Lux Lucis!”

Bearded Raf raised one hand. “Be cautious, brothers! The pigs’ sages must have surprises in store for us. We have an obligation to our Haizzem not to risk his army.”

“Indeed.” Fulvio looked like a king in his exquisite, brightly polished armor. “We may not be ready for their dark trickery. And the gods only seem to ignore us. Soon our Haizzem will come. We should behave guardedly until he arrives.”

“Your Grace,” The old Strategos turned his soft eyes to Lucia, “I regret that you are in the middle of this predicament, in which we find ourselves unprepared. Is there anything you wish to say?”

Lucia dismounted and stood amongst the men. She removed Ysa’s helm and tossed her dark red hair behind her shoulders. “I find all of this hard to believe.” She looked around and behind them, finding nothing of Danato.
Fine, I’ll play your awful game.
“Their sudden desperation could be to our advantage, but it seems they’re looking for a wild melee. Why play into their hands? There is still time to fall back and protect our camp.”

“We are not cowards.” Tirso did not move as he spoke.

“We did not come to retreat from an inferior enemy,” Giunto said.

Alimene bowed before he spoke. “Your Grace, my men left their families to join your father. They came to glorify their souls, their gods, and their king in battle. Now they can finally prove their worth as warriors on even ground.”

Lucia held Ysa’s helm to one side and placed her other hand on her opposite shoulder. “I admit if my father were here, he would engage them. But now this army belongs to my brother. We cannot be reckless. We’ll be stronger once my brother is here.”

Tirso crossed his spear in front of his shield as he leaned his head back. “Duilio, will you see my warriors commanded to flee by a woman?”

Lucia fired back. “I do not command this army, Tirso, the Strategos does, and he will decide our course. I am only here to carry the relics of Ysa to protect our warriors.” Lucia unsheathed Ysa’s white sword, pointed its tip at Tirso’s feet, and rotated the blade. Duilio bowed while astride his horse and the others bowed from their standing positions. She lifted Ysa’s bejeweled shield, miraculously light on her gloved arm, and slammed the flat of her blade against it, producing a rousing hum that silenced the assembly.

I dare you, Danato, to torture me with your sister’s relics in my hands.

Unseen by all, the petite, blond goddess Ysa rode her enormous bone-white horse around the council. The beast stepped around the assembly with godlike patience, a perfect reflection of its rider. Ysa’s stoical face pointed away, to the Pawelons in the west, as the goddess absorbed the council’s words.

“Do you believe Ysa will protect our men this day?” Alimene asked.

“How long have our ancestors fought under the spiritual protection of Ysa's sword and shield? For centuries. Yet I can only pray to my goddess with her instruments in my hands. I can’t make any promises about what gods will do.”
I don’t understand their logic at all.

“My brothers,” said a voice from the chorus, “look at the coming storm! Perhaps the goddess Ysa is with us already.”

Lucia hadn’t considered that. It might be true, although the sky was also dark enough to indicate another deceit from Lord Danato.

“He is right!” Giunto said. “Look, how swiftly they move. They must be from Ysa!”

“Brothers, it is time for a decision,” Duilio said in his easy voice, astride his decorated horse. “I can only believe what Tirso and Giunto have suggested. Look at how the clouds come from the west, casting a dark shadow over Pawelon’s army. I believe Ysa is with us today—all praises to The Protector of Man—and that she is prepared to defend us with her storm and fury. I feel this in my heart, men, do you not? Are we not in the right?”

Fulvio and Forese nodded vehemently. Their nodding grew contagious and a consensus formed with cheering followed by raised throwing spears.

“Then we shall do as our king has instructed us,” Duilio continued. “We must engage and pressure our enemy, and weaken them for his return and for the coming of our Haizzem. We will grant our royal daughter her wishes, as well. Manto, I must send you and your men back to our camp. Remain there, no matter what occurs in the valley, and ready our defenses in case they are needed. The rest of us will immediately march north. Raf, lead your cavalry quickly ahead and prepare to slip around their right flank when we rush forward.

“Should they move their entire force toward our camp as we move aside, we will allow it, block their retreat, and trap them in the valley. We will defeat all they send against us, and with the gods’ good fortune we may win this war today. I ask you humbly to pray with me to Lord Cosimo, not for an easy victory, nor for anything we do not deserve. Pray for the miracle of utter devotion to our chosen path, so that we may attract the gods’ aid, like a determined flower calling to the sun from a rocky field.”

Lucia mounted her mare again and listened to the proliferating commands directing the bulk of the Rezzian army to move north and leave their camp exposed to their enemy. She looked about for signs of Danato’s presence but found none. Whether dreaming or awake, she was perfectly confused.

Ysa rode directly in front of Lucia, anticipating her devotee’s every movement. The goddess kept her cool gaze upon the distant Pawelon army, and willed the sky to fill with darkness.

Chapter 12: The Wrath of Athena

THE REZZIANS gave rise to a percussive din: rhythmic crunching of boots, hearts pounding against metal, out-breaths exploding in unison, tens of thousands racing as one, muscling to live another hour beneath the goddess’s baleful sky.

Lucia watched as Duilio ensured the legions advanced in ideal formations. His corps of commanders rode on horseback, giving commands and receiving information, relaying to the Strategos detailed accounts of their movements.

Soon after the council had ended, the legions held their shields and spears close to their bodies, each man turned in place to his right, and they ran north in formation to avoid becoming surrounded by Pawelon’s two armies. Running hard, they advanced farther north than Pawelon’s northern troop, which had been slow to respond to their sudden change in direction. That Raf’s cavalry were well ahead suggested their northern flank would remain protected.

Duilio smiled above his caparisoned steed. “Our men are fit. The pigs are slow, physically and mentally. They won’t outmaneuver us today.”

Lucia watched the Pawelon armies falling behind their own. “I hope our men won’t be too exhausted to fight.”

“Oh no, Your Grace. These men yearn to push against impossible odds. They are heroes.”

Swift, grey clouds overshadowed them all, flaunting a supernatural origin. Lucia knew that had the legions not been rushing to save their lives, each and every man would have stopped and stood in awe of the waves of lightning streaking around the dark sky.

Confusion still clouded her mind. Was this the obvious stuff of Danato’s dreams, or a harsh reality that looked like a fantasy? She prayed to Ysa to protect them.

Unseen by men, the goddess Ysa’s beast of a horse walked confidently through the Rezzian ranks, its thin rider demonstrating unshakeable poise. Her pointed nose, tight cheeks, and thin lips—with a silver helm framing her jaw—made her fair-skinned face appear sharp with deadly calm.

Ysa willed her horse to gallop and soon halted in the narrowing space between the two armies. A cool breeze swept through the desert plain. She studied the Pawelon army, her blond hair stirring in a full-bodied mass near the center of her back. She looked to Lucia, far in the distance, and raised a fist covered in a bright gauntlet.