The Black Gods War

deep, at the most narrow points along the two routes to the citadel.
    Whenever the Pawelons left thin resistance below, the Rezzians climbed in tight formations like tortoises, carrying their curved shields at their front, sides, rear, and over their heads to defend against any Pawelon archers able to find purchase among the tall cliffs.
    Throughout the Rezzian army, it was widely believed that the apathy of Lord Galleazzo, King Vieri’s patron god, had blocked them from reaching the citadel over the previous year. The soldiers also noted that the new plague began soon after their martial luck turned even more sour. But by divine will—whether miraculous or ironic—the plague had spared the army itself; the sickness only afflicted the common people of Rezzia and their neighbors.

    ~~~~~

    Lucia rode toward the troops on her white mare, flanked by her bald warpriest guards. She’d been told the canyon floor had been beautiful before so many soldiers trampled its vegetation over the course of the war. Still, the desert smelled clean and fresh, noisy insects and birds lived among the land, and the red dirt held a hint of magic, despite its bloody history.
    To distract her thoughts from the impending carnage, she mused on Ilario’s arrival. There would be no other women around the camp besides the harlots, so he would have no more excuses. If he wanted to be with her, this would be his chance to say it.
    Up ahead, a standard-bearer held the round, tasseled, crimson and gold imperial flag, a proud rendering of the sun. Normally the standard would follow the king in battle, but for now it signaled the Strategos’s position at the rear of the army’s dust cloud. After a pull on Albina’s reins and a firm kick, Lucia soon approached the old man whom her father had entrusted with his legions.
    The Strategos was nearly seventy now, with curly white hair hanging down to his shoulders. Duilio’s kind disposition shone from his rosy face, a countenance Lucia found odd amusingly ill-fitting on the commander of Rezzia’s feared army.
    “Tell me, how does Your Grace fare on this glorious day?”
    Lucia surprised herself with a smile brought on by Duilio’s charm. She wondered how he managed to remain so cheerful in such a soul-crushing place.
    “It’s the most recent worst day of my life,” she said. “Thank you for asking.”
    “I hope you will continue to let me know every way I can make you feel more comfortable. Your father and brother come closer to us every day now—we expect them in merely two days.”
    “I don’t suppose we could call all of this off then? Take a holiday to celebrate our new Dux Spiritus?”
    “If you would prefer it, Your Grace.”
    So very tempting , she thought . “It hardly seems practical, Strategos.”
    They rode on in silence. She knew Duilio was giving her the chance to agree to his offer, but her father’s instructions were clear: Engage the enemy at every opportunity, just as he would. Maintain pressure and do not let the Pawelons rest, so that victory will come soon after Caio’s arrival.
    “Your Grace, do you know much about Lord Cosimo?”
    “Strategos, you asked me the same question when I was a girl.”
    Duilio reached behind his breastplate and gathered his ragged necklace, pulling up the hanging symbol of his god, a curved letter in the ancient script indicating the vast totality of all possibilities. “Few understand The Lord of Miracles. Most take miracles to be gifts that come freely to the lucky. If you would like to join me in praying to him today, pray not for powerful wonders to rescue us, but for the dedication to noble values and endeavors which make us worthy of receiving such grace—”
    “Duilio, why are our soldiers stopping?” Odd, because they were far from the trails that climbed to Pawelon’s citadel.
    “A very good question, Your Grace.”
    Soon every soldier stopped and looked around for an answer. A messenger on horseback brought shocking news. The Pawelons had marched, early in the morning, perhaps all of their forces into the valley, half of them down the northern passage, half down the southern one. Two rectangular formations would soon approach, one from the northwest and one from the southwest, so that in the worst event Rezzia’s army could be outflanked by a monstrous pincer.
    From Danato’s nightmare hell to this one , Lucia thought .
    She waited with Duilio for Rezzia’s commanders to join them to discuss their strategy. The