The Black Gods War

crowd of only a few thousand. His chances of intercepting the Haizzem might still be good.
    Walk faster, you damned, useless legs. You’re not that old, are you?
    Bashing his way through the crowd gave him little guilt, but leaving his people and family still weighed on his mind. He’d left the forests of Andars weeks ago, knowing he would probably never breathe in their crisp sweetness again. He’d yet to stop worrying about what would become of young Skye, Dag, and Idonea.
    Amazing, how easy it is to approach this Caio . After the day’s Dux Spiritus ceremony, the Rezzians’ passion now focused on just one man, no longer two. The king retained his political throne, but the military power now belonged to his son; the religious savior was the new Dux Spiritus of Rezzia’s armies. Ironically, the young man was also believed to be a great healer.
    The hypnotized crowd faced the palace, the Haizzem, and the setting sun. All at once, the people dropped to their knees in prayer, giving Jurg a clear view of the man he’d come for.
    The Haizzem was like the brightest star on a hazy full moon night, the only one shining in the fog. Something about his kind face was so captivating that Jurg stopped to stare. Like most Rezzian men, the Haizzem’s thick, dark mane fell around his shoulders; but Jurg found the boy charming, even beautiful.
    The young man had touched and supposedly blessed more than a hundred thousand Rezzians on this day. His filthy robe must have been grabbed by nearly everyone who’d approached him—yet the boy radiated remarkable warmth and energy.
    Jurg experienced a rare moment of joy. At last, the long journey felt worthwhile. But as he saw the guards around the new Dux Spiritus, he began to question his plan.
    The Haizzem stood three levels up, on the giant steps that curved around and led up to the holy palace. More than a hundred soldiers formed a wide semi-circle around him. An enormous warden stayed close beside the new Dux Spiritus, scanning the crowd with hawk-like eyes set in a gentle face; his short blond hair stood out in the sea of dark Rezzian features. Jurg’s blond hair did, too. The Haizzem’s protector would see him soon.
    A shame my body isn’t what it used to be , he thought, tasting more blood in his mouth.
    Many of the guards closed their eyes in prayer. Others had already turned toward the massive archway of the white palace. It must have been a welcome sight to them after the long ceremony and parade. Unfortunately, because the steps were so wide, Jurg was not nearly as close as he’d hoped to be when he approached the Haizzem. Jurg could burst past the soldiers’ line, but the blond would be ready to intercept him. A fellow Andaran.
    So be it .
    As the flock prayed in silence, the savior looked up and locked eyes with Jurg. If the stories about the Haizzem’s spiritual powers were true, the boy might already know why he’d come.

    ~~~~~

    Caio gave the sun a melancholy glance. I’m not ready for this day to end .
    He turned to face an elderly woman and felt the gods’ love coursing through his heart.
    “My knees,” she pleaded as she grabbed his cremos robe.
    “I know, love.”
    He quickly kissed his red and black fingers and touched her knees. Your miracle please, Mya . Caio sensed that she would be healed of her arthritis within days. The woman stumbled back with an empty look and a young man pushed his way ahead of the devotees, into her place.
    After Caio blessed a few more, his protector and friend Ilario whispered the words he’d been dreading.
    “It’s time to go, my Haizzem. The sun is setting.”
    Caio would have to leave the holy city tomorrow. To join his father’s war.
    Ilario wasted no time, organizing the soldiers in a wide arc and putting them between the people and their Haizzem. Caio ran forward and pushed against the soldiers’ line, reaching with outstretched fingers to the crowd. They rushed toward him, grabbing at his hands and sleeves. The soldiers stood their ground, and Ilario pulled back on Caio’s robe.
    Caio held his ground. “You’ll have to pull me away if you want me to go.”
    Ilario’s powerful arms wrapped around Caio’s waist. Caio decided not to fight him. His friend pulled him backward, up two more steps.
    “Stop.” Caio raised his left hand. “I’ll pray with them once more.”
    Ilario stood aside.
    Caio turned to the crowd. He kissed the fingers of his left hand, then his right. He raised his hands high, and