Offering of blood

Malav rose before dawn. The thought of having his wife back by his side filled him with too much eagerness to allow him to rest for long.

Wrapping his hand around his sword hilt he reached out to see where, and how many, dead might rise when he called. In the night, it seemed some in the city had wished to flee and join his army. He commanded the fresh corpses to rise and marched them around the wall to look at them.

To his amusement, some of them were clearly of his brother’s entourage. Ayred had made it to Gaelel. Malav’s amusement began to fade. Ayred would not hesitate to have his wife and child murdered. He would see it as securing the throne. Fear and fury began to gnaw at the corners of Malav’s mind.

The arrival of Cerik with breakfast and a young woman in tow brought him from his thoughts. “Your Majesty. I’ve taken the liberty of securing a food taster from the, ah, plunder.”

The girl was timid and did not lift her eyes as Malav looked at her. “Why this one?”

Cerik smiled faintly, “She’s a thief like your lady wife. If she performs her duties well, perhaps Lady Charyic would enjoy her company.”

Malav half growled half grunted acknowledging his words before speaking, “Ayred is in the city. I need to know if my wife is safe. Has there been a response to your missive?” Malav moved to the platter, he laid a slice of cheese over bread and remembered Charyic feeding him at the shrine. He dropped it back onto the platter and glared down at it.

“I expect an answer when the sun rises, my dread King. Does the food displease you?” Malav could hear a faint note of concern in Cerik’s voice.

“I will eat when my wife is returned to my side.” He turned to the girl and tilted her face upward to look into her frightened eyes. “Your god, is he forgiving?”

The girl shivered and managed a whisper, “Yes.”

If her god is forgiving, his wife would be as well. Malav allowed himself a smile and looked to Cerik, “My Charyic has a temper to match my own, but if her anger has cooled perhaps she will have forgiven me already.”

“No.” The whisper was almost inaudible.

“No?” His black opal glare fell on the girl’s face and her eyes widened.

“Thieves-thieves aren’t known for-for-” She stuttered to a stop.

“If your god is forgiving, why would his worshippers not be?” His cool words seemed to terrify her into silence.

“They hold the grudges he does not.” Cerik spoke quietly. “The King of Fools forgives his wife and loves her always, and yet you’ve seen how Lady Charyic dislikes her.” The older man held his gaze and Malav could hear the unspoken words. His Charyic would find it difficult to forgive him for his infidelity.

“My wife will see my sincerity. She loves me.” Malav’s glower made Cerik avert his eyes.

“Of course, my King. I will have you notified the moment the gates open. Silosyil, fetch the platter.” Cerik spoke with his customary calm and confidence, and Malav watched as the girl practically leapt to obey him. The older man bowed low and the girl scrambled to imitate him, nearly dumping the platter on the ground. Cerik’s quick hand was all that prevented the food from spilling.

Malav stewed in his fears and anger as he waited. When the gate opened he was on his feet and calling for a horse before Cerik had reached his tent with the news. Barking orders at the living soldiers to keep themselves ready, Malav mounted his horse and rode out to meet the small delegation, flanked only by the dead.

The priestess of Isemal inclined her head with a brittle imitation of civility as he approached. “Your Highness, w-”

“Majesty.” He corrected her sharply. “I have conquered Cearazon and stand before your gates with an army that you cannot hope to defeat or repel. I will not tolerate your disrespect.” Malav watched with satisfaction as she bowed her head. “You have not brought my wife to me, why is that?”

The priestess spoke in a more conciliatory manner, “Your Majesty, favored of Malies, the blessed of Anyk has already been sent to Isemalrocath. She left her offerings, sang songs of urgency, and was placed promptly into a carriage.”

“Rivers of blood and an army of the damned?” His smile made the men next to her reach for their swords.

“That was one of them.” He watched her swallow nervously.

“Tell me what else my wife sang.” Malav almost purred the command. Whatever horrors she sang of he would bring to pass.

The smug suggestion of a smile around the priestess’ mouth was his only warning.

“I have no fear for the harsh winds’ sheer,

For no wind can blow forever.

When you take flight my heart is light,

For my heart to you is tethered.

Birds in flight on the winds of war,

Joy on the wing, love forever more.”

The love song clearly intended for Esus struck him like a closed fist. He had believed the small piece she had sung to be for him.

The Light Bringers flanking her began their attack as he was still reeling from the words. He was knocked from his horse but recovered quickly, the burn of the light less painful than the song had been. His guard of dead soldiers surged forward being burned as they attacked, and the rest of his army began to advance as well.

The gates had not closed completely and they remained open only enough to take the fleeing priestess back inside. Her guard of Light Bringers was left to fend for themselves and was quickly swallowed by his soldiers.

Malav attempted to raise them. They burst into flame and crumbled into ash. The failure infuriated him further. He reached out and raised the dead within the city and then he began his onslaught.

Every man, woman, and child that fell was raised and set to the task of making more soldiers within the walls. The attack within and without continued until the priest of Malies brought out word of their surrender.

Stalking through the broken gates and blood spattered streets to the temple Malav felt no pleasure in this victory. The sound of an angry old man shouting incoherently in the street caught his attention and turned him from his path.

The beggar. He shook an old battered staff with ribbons and bells tied to it as he shouted. He fell silent as Malav approached. He no longer looked so cheerful, and his rheumy eyes looked somehow alert.  

“My wife, my Charyic, came to you, did she not?” Malav demanded coolly.

“Dead will rise. Discarded and worthy. Dead will sleep. Trouble loves the true heart.”

“I love my wife. I would have her returned.” Malav began angrily and then changed his tack, “Anyk has her singing love songs to one of Isemal’s Light Bringers, does that not inflame you? One of yours, given by your wife to one of his?”

“Mischief dances close to flame. He keeps a clever bird. Games are never won. Her husband gave a gift to her lover.”

Malav scowled at the incoherent babbling.

Cerik’s soft cough came from behind him. “My dread King, I believe the temple requires your attention. If you would allow me to, perhaps Silosyil and I might be able to make some sense of his ramblings?”

“Kill him when you finish.” Malav growled as he turned away, resuming his march on the temple.

As he stalked past the silent market he toyed with the idea of having it emptied and the offerings all laid before Malies altar, but the greatest of the gods would have no use for such clutter. It would burn with the city and its people when he left it. He sent his intention to his army of the dead and the gates began to be raised again and sealed.

Malav entered the temple as if he owned it. He cast his disdainful glare on all of the altars except for that of Malies. Malies’ altar he approached and knelt before.

“Rise, favored of Malies.” A priest with a smile as sharp as a knife joined him in front of the altar. “Your wife is a charming creature. Malies very much wishes to have her kneeling before his altar offering her service. She is wasted on Isemal.”

“She loathes Isemal.” Malav gave the man a dark look.

“Things have changed.” The priest shrugged and fixed him with a dubious look. “Malies has chosen to play a game of hearts with Ayil, with you and your wife. If you win her back, have her choose you in front of Esus and all the gods, he will gain something he desires. If you fail, your line will never again sit on the throne of Luzoron.”

“You doubt me.” Malav felt as though a hot ball of rage burned in his belly.

“Ayil believes she has already won, and Isemal intends to keep the songbird confined to Isemalrocath. You would be at a disadvantage even if you hadn’t driven the girl away.”

The blade was in his hand before Malav realized it and the priest backed against the altar. “I will take back my wife. I will bring her and my child to the shrine of roots, and I will gut the bird, Esus, upon Malies’ altar.”

“The way she wrapped herself around Esus I don’t believe you stand a chance, Malav.” The priestess’ loud voice came from Isemal’s altar and it echoed in the temple and in his ears.

Rage solidified within him and his path laid itself out at his feet. “If I must have her choose me before all the gods I will have their statues brought.” In the Luzor tongue, he barked an order to have the statues removed from their altars and taken outside of the city.

The dead obeyed. Priests and priestesses looked on in horror as offerings were shoved aside and the altars themselves were sent crashing to the floor as the statues were unmoored and wrestled violently from the temple.

Malav looked upon the scattered and broken offerings and knew that he would require something to aid him in winning his wife back to his side. He would give Malies an offering of blood before he asked for it. His offering would repay insult for insult, indignity for indignity. He ordered all of the priests and priestesses gathered and brought to the only altar left standing.

The priestess of Isemal was the first he chose. Like his father he had her arms pulled wide and he drove the blade into her heart. Unlike his father, she screamed. It was a wail, unlike anything he had ever heard. She shuddered on the tip of his blade. He had half expected her to burst into flames like the Light Bringers, but she did not.

He commanded her to her feet. “Rise and serve me.”

She rose and bowed her head, “As you command, favored of Malies.”

“Sacrifice these priests on Malies’ altar, begin with those of Isemal and Anyk. Offer their blood to the greatest of the gods and when you have finished, you will tell me of the weaknesses of the City of Light.” Malav watched as she obeyed and Malies’ altar and the floor around it ran with blood.