The Black God's War (26 page)

Caio untied the vines sealing the god’s book and felt a shiver upon contact with the cracked leather. He moved his thumb along its ridged spine. Reaching its base, his palm and fingers stretched out and grazed across its holy face before his fingertips ran along the edges of the hoary parchment.

His thumb ran up and down the pages until a sudden vision of light filled his mind. He pushed his thumb into the middle of the book, the pages parted, and the book flew open with a thud. A passage of text pulled his attention:

The evil deeds of men exist as unaware spirits long after the heinous acts are done, for such products of man’s depravity can neither be dissolved nor diminished merely upon death. Such spirits must and will be transformed by future men, who rarely discover they are grappling with the ghosts. Lord Danato, Dweller in the Abyss, is the sole master of this serpentine process at each pivotal twist.

He folded the book shut and eased himself down to sitting on his prayer rug, in front of the altar. He kneeled on one leg and stared at The Book.
Lord Danato
, he prayed,
I have no doubt you have called us to journey to your realm. I accept this. Though you may be ready to see us suffer, I won’t argue with gods and their gifts to men.

He lowered his forehead to the floor in respect to The Black One. Caio’s resistance to his physical pain had abated, if not the discomfort itself. After a long submission of his will to the gods, he stood and scanned the vines that adorned the walls. He snapped off a long section and used it to wrap up Oderigo’s text once more. The vine went four times around the book.

Caio closed his eyes and images arose: drowned Pawelons lying on wet ground, the spear flung into his shoulder, his father nearly losing his own life to save him, Lucia’s tormented face after she returned from her abduction.

Raw feelings coursed through his heart as he contemplated the crushing slaughter of Duilio’s legions, the hopelessness of his soldiers masked by rage, his paralyzing fears about Lucia’s and Ilario’s safety, and, overall, his grieving over the total loss of his perfect world.

He fell to his prayer rug and prayed again.
Lord Danato, whatever suffering may be coming, I beg you to saddle it on me.
Let Lucia suffer no more, let no one else suffer but me. I am your slave. Punish only me.

Ilario’s dauntless voice filled the room. “May we enter, my Haizzem?”

Caio filled his heart with love as he stood. “Yes, my brother.”

Lucia followed Ilario, resplendent in her royal
cremos
robe. Caio sensed Ilario’s guilt, so he embraced his stout friend. Caio warmed inside, knowing Ilario and Lucia had spent the night in each other’s arms.

“I am so happy to see you together, and to see that you are feeling much better, Lucia.”

She smiled enough for dimples to form in her cheeks, like drops of sunshine. Caio wanted to hug her, but didn’t want to stain her pristine
cremos
robe.

“Now that I have begun to regain my strength,” Caio said to Lucia, “I can pray to Mya to heal you.”

“Save your energy. I’m feeling better. It’s you I’m worried about.”

“The warpriests prayed with me. My healing is progressing very swiftly. Please have faith in me.”

Lucia squinted her eyes at him. “Are you sure you can you do this now? It can wait for another day.”

“I’m ready. I’ve completed my morning prayers. But there is one thing. I need to change.”

“We’ll wait outside.” Ilario laid a gentle hand on Caio’s uninjured shoulder before he and Lucia left the yurt.

Caio undressed and washed his body with anointed clay soap and blessed oils before tying his
cremos
around him. He rolled up his prayer rug and placed it next to his bed, then laid in front of the altar a fresh white linen trimmed with embroidered gold. He spoke softly, “From here, Lord Danato, we will begin the journey. I hope this site is pleasing to you. It would be much more extravagant and better prepared if we were in Remaes.”

He invited Lucia and Ilario to reenter, and her happiness noticeably dimmed when she spotted their ceremonial portal. Ilario sat cross-legged on the floor, facing the altar from the opposite wall. Lucia froze and eyed the floor.

“Maybe there is another way,” Ilario said.

“No,” Lucia answered.

“I would be crushed if anything happened to either of you,” Ilario said.

No one spoke.

“It is time,” Caio said. “Sister, when you are ready, please sit.” He motioned toward the white linen. “Ilario, should anything happen to our bodies during this process—”

“I already told the healers to be at the ready,” Ilario said. “I’ll fetch them quickly if they’re needed. Do you think that could happen?”

“We don’t know what might happen,” Caio said.

Lucia sat beside the ceremonial portal and Caio went to the altar. He held up a rough piece of obsidian, a sacred stone to worshipers of Danato.

“Lord Danato, we exalt you. We seek your audience. We bow before you.” Caio placed the jagged stone in Lucia’s hands, looking deeply into her guarded eyes. As she bowed, her hair fell and covered her cheeks.

Caio returned to the altar. He lifted a glass vial and removed its stopper.
We receive your blessings
. He splashed the sacred water around: on himself from head to toe, on Lucia’s forehead and body, on the altar, in the air, and on the floor. He used the burning oil lamp on the altar to light a pungent bundle of grey and green desert herbs. He left the sacred plants smoking in a wooden bowl.

“To bless our journey, I will now read a passage from The Book of Time in honor of Lord Danato.” Caio unfastened the vine and turned to the eleventh chapter, the one dedicated solely to the tenth and final god of Lux Lucis. He began to read:

“In the earliest days of King Goro’s reign, a great prosperity blessed the lands of Rezzia. The King was a most devout ruler, one who honored The Ten with extravagant ritual sacrifices, the building of great shrines, and support for their warpriests.

“In the fourteenth year of his reign, the gods came to King Goro on the eve of the Festival of the Golden Moon and invited him to a banquet prepared by their devotees. Just as the ambrosial delights arrived, Lord Galleazzo, The Commander of Lions, the Lord of Lords, asked the king which of the gods he believed was greatest.

“Being careful not to offend, King Goro told stories of the gods’ grandeur, beginning with the power of Lord Galleazzo’s golden discus and the devotion of his wife the goddess Jacopa, queen of all the plants, animals, and birds. Next he spoke of the holy prophecies of Lord Oderigo and the healing waters created by his sister, the goddess Mya.

“King Goro told of the endless service to mankind done by Lord Sansone, and of his wife, the goddess Orazia, whose laughter filled the halls of the gods’ pillared mountain shrine. He spoke of the amazing miracles delivered unto man by Lord Cosimo, and of the peace of the loving goddess Vani, who blessed all the world. Lastly, he spoke of the rages of the goddess Ysa, The Protector of Mankind and Commander of Horses.

“But he neglected to mention Ysa’s brother.

“After the king’s long and impassioned speeches, a brooding silence hung over the gathering. The sky darkened to black and one god stood: Lord Danato. ‘You have spoken so well of the nine who dwell together, King, yet you have not once mentioned me, as if the Lord of all the dark processes does not belong at the same table as those who dwell on the holy mountain. Your ignorance and insult offend me. I hereby curse you for seven and a half years. You will learn for yourself the depravities which afflict the masses.’

“The King yelled out his disagreement with The Black One, insisting he made an understandable mistake and should not be punished. The debate between Lord Danato and King Goro grew more heated and, as it did, the King called on the other gods to defend him. They said not a word. Not wanting to contradict Lord Danato, those four gods and five goddesses departed and left the king alone with The Black One. Still King Goro refused to submit and insisted he was right.

“Within a year, Goro lost his throne due to the treachery of his closest ally, Farinata. By the time seven wretched years had passed for the prior king, he was reduced to begging as a pauper, suffering from a crippling disease and unable to walk, bereft of all family and friends.

“Goro made use of his prior spiritual training to journey to Lord Danato’s underworld, where he finally begged for The Black One’s mercy. Lord Danato accepted the king’s humble request and gave him some relief from his feverous aching, but told him he would have to suffer in isolation for another half of a year, just as he had initially decreed.

“Upon the completion of all the days of his curse, King Goro found himself miraculously healed and soon welcomed into the fold of the royal family once again. He lived the rest of his days as a guest in the holy palace, at the pleasure of his nephew, now King Lapo, who had reclaimed the seat of power from Farinata the Usurper.

“In a tale from the year 765, the Rezzian Queen Modesta also made the treacherous journey to Lord Danato’s underworld. Her husband, King Remigio, lay dying of an incurable affliction with no male heir. Upon reaching Lord Danato’s realm, she is said to have been subjected to tortures the equal of her greatest fears. Once her underworld trial was complete, Lord Danato appeared and gave Modesta his mixed blessing.

“The king’s health gradually improved, but after he recovered, their daughter Pia died in a raging fire while visiting the province of Lympia.

“So it has always been. The black god always receives his due.”

Caio closed the book and closed his eyes.
Lord Danato, we honor you and your power.

As Caio prayed, he still sensed the fear coming from Ilario. “We must honor Lord Danato with all our being. He alone holds the vision of unending warfare. He holds the power of absolution over us all. Nothing further will be accomplished without his grace.”

Ilario’s face twitched as he nodded. “I will be here saying prayers for you and Lucia.”

Caio lowered himself to his knees and sat beside Lucia on the floor. She still held the obsidian and glanced down.

“Let’s begin the journey,” Caio said.

Lucia blew out a hard breath. Her eyes burned red. “I love you, Caio.”

“I love you, Lucia.”

“I’m ready.”

They lay on their backs, holding hands with their feet pointed away from the altar and The Book of Time upon it. Their spirits fell through the ground, through rocky earth and darkness, plummeting without a sense of physicality, wrenched down by The Black One’s abyssal gravity.

The Second Stanza:

Deus Ex Karma

Chapter 37: The River Styx

A MYSTERIOUS, SUBDUED LIGHT SOURCE lit the underworld sky. Most of the firmament alternated from impenetrable grey to flickers of soft light mostly eclipsed by the thick atmosphere. Above a crumbling building in the distance, turbulent clouds roiled like a boiling cauldron, spinning around the structure as if it were their axis. The effect dizzied Lucia and Caio. Chaotic shadows waltzed around them.

“There are clouds in the underworld?” Lucia asked herself quietly.

“No.” Caio somehow heard her. “This is the plane between the surface and Lord Danato’s underworld.”

Their voices rang thin and hollow, as if there were no souls behind them. Their speech was nearly drowned out by moaning whispers carried on the winds.

Tall, craggy mountains surrounded the royal daughter and son as they stood in the center of a great basin. Their bare feet chafed against the cracked floor and those winds—hot, biting, full of steam—forced them to keep their cream robes wrapped closely around their sensitive spiritual bodies.

“Danato’s Lighthouse.” Lucia pointed to the structure beneath the clouds.

Just ahead of them, the harsh ground became a polished natural floor. Close to the distant mountains ahead, Danato’s fabled lighthouse literally glided around the smooth surface while the dark clouds followed it.

“It is winding across this plain like a snake,” Lucia said.

“We must speak respectfully of him.”

A surprising wave of static raised the hairs on their bodies. Lucia looked to her brother and he mirrored her look of indecision. Their eyes looked uncharacteristically tiny, as if squinting at some distant mirage.

Caio reached out to hold his sister’s hand and they set off toward the mythologized portal. She slipped on the strange surface first; his balance supported her. He slipped next; her steadiness grounded him. They shuffled onward with their arms wrapped around each other’s backs and approached the sliding structure. Its means of entrance: a swinging, dilapidated, black wooden door.

“We’ll have to run to catch it,” she said.

“I’m ready.” Caio sounded certain. He pulled her forward.

Caio and Lucia stumbled ahead together, holding each other upright. He leapt over the few crumbling steps, through the door, and Lucia followed him as they squeezed into the dark vestibule.