The Black Gods War

sting. Her spirit filled him like a cool spray of water tumbling off the canyon’s edge.
    Invigorated, Caio sat up on one knee. Ilario rested a heavy hand on his shoulder, his light brown eyes full of concern. Caio stood, ignoring the pain still burning in his chest.
    Ilario rose with him. “Don’t strain. Your duty is done.”
    “We’ll call off the offensive.” Lucia leaned against Caio and kissed his cheek, rekindling his will to press on.
    “I can still pray. My body suffers, but my spirit soars.” Each word Caio spoke intensified the pain in his chest. “These deaths should not be for nothing. We will push on.”
    The young Pawelon gazed at the spacious sky. Caio sensed everything the boy was feeling: stillness, gratitude, and wonder.
    Caio addressed the boy in his own language. “Now you know the peace of death.”
    “What happened to me?”
    “The gods of Lux Lucis brought you back to us. Your life means too much for it to end today.”
    The soldier came to his feet and staggered around, calmly viewing his fallen allies. “These men … they are in a better place now.” He turned his eyes to Caio and stared. “Are you … ?”
    “I am the Haizzem.”
    “You saved my life.”
    “I want you to return to your people. My army is coming. We intend to end the war today. You won’t be safe unless you leave the area. Go north until you reach the lake. Wait there, and return to your people some other day.” Caio coughed, causing hot daggers to stab his chest. “I’ve seen your future. You must live. You have so much to live for.”
    “I owe you my life … so I will do as you say.” The boy pursed his lips, deciding something. “My army will soon realize something is wrong. That we are not communicating with them. Only our sages can send signals back to them.”
    “Thank you,” Caio bowed as he spoke. “My brother, not all of us believe in this war. I, for one, do not.”
    “Then go home. Go back to your lands and leave my people alone. If you are the Haizzem, why don’t you make them all go?”
    Ilario was still holding his cloak to Caio’s wounds. He interrupted, speaking the Pawelon language with some difficulty. “Because this world is not yet right. Look how your people suffer. You believe in no greater power than yourselves, and look at the results. You live like pigs. You suffer—”
    “And you mean to help my people? You wish to see us suffer less ? We are happier than you think—”
    Caio interrupted, “My father believes this war to be a religious act.”
    “Don’t you command this army now? Take your people home. Let us all live.”
    Ilario spoke again, “Then you would come after us.”
    “We would not!”
    Lucia commanded everyone’s attention: “Our people believe it’s the gods’ will that we wage this war, because they want us to better our world. But if Rezzia is not guided by the gods of Lux Lucis, we will not conquer Pawelon. Soon, we will know what the gods wish for.” She looked at Caio, and he understood her meaning: Lord Danato’s vision, Caio’s abilities, and the favor of the gods would be put to the test on this day.
    “You, Haizzem,” the boy said, “you have such power. You should follow your own truth.”
    Maybe you’re right.
    The boy had named the outcome Caio wanted most: a retreat with no further casualties. The young Pawelon could be the last to die in the war, even though he now lived. The miracle of life given back to him could be such a worthy, symbolic act if his resurrection were to be the final turning point in the war. How many lives could be saved?
    But it’s impossible.
    The entire nation of Rezzia, as well as its army, expected the fighting to crescendo now that he was Dux Spiritus. History, tradition, and even scripture gave him a mission to fulfill, made necessary by his father’s sacrifice. He was the son of King Vieri, the Dux Spiritus of Rezzia, the Haizzem of their faith, and no one in his proud nation would be willing to see him lose. He had only one option, an already decided fate— and I despise that with my whole heart and soul.
    “Go!” Caio pointed north at the sun. The star blazed wine-red in the early morning haze. “Go north to the shore. Our armies are approaching. Run as fast as you can. Live for tomorrow. Live out your life!”
    The boy walked away, then turned around again, out of words. His gape showed his sadness and rage. He glanced at the warpriests before racing toward the sun.
    “If you insist