The Black Gods War

deem me worthy enough to teach.”
    Brijaji only narrowed his eyes.
    Indrajit yelled at Rao from a dozen paces away, “I go now to defend Pawelon.”
    Rao yelled back, “I can’t sanction your aggression, but I will protect our men. This storm is from their goddess Ysa. The royal daughter must be here. She will have her own powers.”
    “Good. Then she will be my target,” Briraji said, beside him.
    More lightning flashed between the darkening clouds.
    “We will handle them with or without you.” A rare smile appeared on Indrajit’s face, and he yelled louder so that more men could hear him. “It’s a shame the rajah’s only living son is afraid to fight a girl. If your brothers had lived, perhaps your father could have been proud of one of them. Our enemies killed the wrong ones.”
    Indrajit’s taunting felt like an icy blade piercing Rao’s heart. The general obviously knew more about Rao’s family history than he did.
    Rao moved outside the formation and let the waves of soldiers march past him. He scanned the determined faces of the rows of men marching toward the battle.
    If I can do anything about it, these men will not die today .
    He followed the troops into the valley, and climbed atop the highest rise overlooking what was to be the battlefield. Only parched shrubs, noisy insects, and black birds seemed to live at the valley floor. Hills and ditches made much of the canyon land uneven, but the armies were converging on a plain. Another great mass of Pawelon troops approached from the southern trail, but they wouldn’t be able to join the battle for some time. Because of this, the Pawelon troops near Rao were outnumbered by at least two to one.
    The Pawelon and Rezzian armies marched closer together. Closer and closer until Pawelon’s forces were commanded to stop. Their infantry extended long spears and held great round shields along the front lines, weaving a tapestry of muscle and iron to punish any Rezzian charge. On a hill near to Rao, a score of sages stood with their arms held rigidly overhead like the branches of tall trees, humming a complex scale of mystical tones.
    The enemy’s legions charged as expected, running ahead in great rectangular formations with their long, curling rectangular shields held in front of their bodies and over their heads. Pawelon’s archers pulled back on their bows, a sinewy and screeching racket, and unleashed their volley.
    Pawelon’s missiles took flight in a black swarm. The sages’ toning deepened. As their humming grew louder and reached a stirring pitch, the arrow swarm expanded before raining down in a supernatural torrent, the density of arrows multiplied by the sages’ powers. Rezzian screams filled the air. Rao observed the horrible noise with detachment, not allowing himself to feel or contemplate its full meaning.
    He breathed deliberately, pulling his consciousness inward, seeking his calm center.
    A high-pitched whine blared from the darkening heavens. A blazing object burned through the sky, aiming at the rear of the Rezzian army. The celestial fireball arced down and exploded with an ear-splitting boom, creating an eruption of high-flying sparks near the center of Rezzia’s forces. The valley floor shook, rumbled, and cracked.
    As if responding, the clouds swirled faster, turned pitch-black, and hovered above Pawelon’s forces. A vicious, freezing wind blew down on them.



Chapter Seven: To Dream of Battle

    BY THE TIME LUCIA SET OFF on horseback to meet Strategos Duilio, the Rezzian army had already begun its trek through the valley. The formations inched forward like an army of ants in the basin of Gallea’s most impressive canyon, long-haired infantry clattering with tall shields on their left arms, held throwing spears poking up above right shoulders, fat double-edged stabbing swords still sheathed, wrought iron cuirasses over maroon tunics, and bronze helms with long cheek guards and colorful horsehair plumes.
    Pawelon’s citadel peered mockingly over the edge of the high western rim. The Rezzians anticipated the usual skirmishes with their enemy on the trails leading up to the fortress. Early battles each day typically took place around the mouth of the northern or southern trail, sometimes at both locations. Pawelon would either fortify the wide trailheads with countless rows of long spears, and archers stationed on ledges in the cliffs, or they would spread out their forces with long spearmen placed, at least seven rows