The Black Gods War

the crowd dropped to its knees. Most of them put their heads to the ground in prostration. Caio scanned not only the crowd, but also their receptive hearts and minds. “During my absence, you must maintain your faith and devotion to the gods of Lux Lucis.”
    The crowd responded in unison: “Havah ilz avah Haizzem!”
    During the moment of silence that followed, a ragged figure emerged from the crowd and looked up at Caio. Aggression gleamed from his reddened eyes, though Caio sensed that the poor man felt only sorrow. They looked at each other fearfully and Caio tried to impart his grace to the foreigner through his glance. The man shook his head violently, and Caio’s heart felt stabbed by what was about to transpire. He knew if the man had focused on his gaze a moment longer, he would have received all he came for; instead the blond Andaran man began barreling toward him.
    The foreigner slammed into a praying soldier with his bear-like shoulders and arms, knocking the Rezzian onto his back. The next closest soldier threw himself at the man’s legs, but the Andaran jumped over him with a hoarse yell. The foreigner sprung onto the step below Ilario and Caio.
    The crowd looked up at the scene and pressed backward with shock as Ilario drew his sword, stepped forward, and yelled at the onrushing man, “Stop!”
    The Andaran kept coming. He released a tormented cry and drove straight for Ilario.
    No, Lord! Caio beseeched his vine-covered patron, The Lord of The Book of Time. All movement, save his own, slowed to a crawl. Caio surged forward and pulled back on Ilario’s shoulder.
    “He doesn’t intend to hurt me!” Caio slipped between the two, and the normal flow of time resumed.
    The Andaran fell down on his knees, grabbed Caio’s revered feet, and began to wail.
    Caio yelled to his protectors as they sped toward him, “Let him be! He means me no harm.” He held the man’s head and caressed his matted hair.
    The crowd continued scattering away. Someone screamed that the foreigner carried the new plague.
    Ilario held his sword high, ready to strike. “You don't need to help him.”
    “His disease cannot harm me,” Caio said.
    Ilario took three steps back and sheathed his blade. He pursed his lips and looked around at the crowd while Caio consoled the sobbing foreigner.
    Caio searched the man’s emotions and felt his concern for his family. He spoke in the man’s native tongue, “Feel the goddess Mya's cool grace, my brother. Receive her healing warmth in your heart.” He squatted and leaned over to kiss the back of the man's head and his cheeks. He tasted the man’s sweat and tears.
    Then she appeared.
    The goddess Mya revealed herself to Caio alone. Her short dress made of lush vines left her shoulders and knees bare and elegant. Her soft brown hair gathered behind her head, tied loosely enough for some to hang neatly around the sides of her face. She sat down on the other side of the sick man and stroked his back to comfort him, looking down with a countenance like a calm lake.
    The man's body writhed with spasms. He cried and pleaded in Andaran, “Help me. Heal me or make the suffering go away. I’ve come so far.”
    “I know you have.” Caio leaned closer and whispered in the man’s ear, with an arm around his shoulder, “She will help you, if you rest in her grace. Everything else will take care of itself.”
    The man stopped shaking. His entire body surrendered and relaxed on the pale clay. He rolled onto his side and showed Caio his blissful face. His arm beneath his body reached up to the sky with palm upturned, then fell flat against the ground.
    Mya, why?
    The goddess's eyes flashed toward her beloved before returning to their downward gaze.
    Caio cradled the dying man’s head in his hands and looked into his faraway eyes. “She blesses you. She wants your suffering to end. She will protect you in the afterlife.”
    Though I wish she would save you, and return you to your family.
    The attention of the hushed crowd focused on Caio as he held the dying man.
    The peeling skin on the man’s face glowed as his pale lips stretched gleefully. He whispered, “I never believed in your gods … Not once in my life.”
    The foreigner’s eyelids closed.
    Ilario stepped forward and rested his strong hands on Caio's shoulders. “Let’s go. You need to rest.”
    Caio stood up and looked at the crowd with sadness. He raised his hands as the guards reassembled in their formation. The people