A gift

Malav sat silently digesting the reports he had received. The Light Bringers had left the ranks of his father’s army. That was an annoyance. Killing them was a certain way to regain Malies’ good graces. And worse, it seemed Cearazon was preparing to try to seal the Dragon’s Head Pass. That would limit the casualties of the war he had promised Malies.

He could attempt to provoke them but he would be risking too many of his own men and his father’s generals would likely just bring the sides of the pass down on their heads rather than engage them. If the pass were sealed it would open up the possibility of raids to the south to stir up a new war but the likelihood that they would follow suit and close the passes, if he permitted his father to do so unchallenged, was high.

He needed more men. He had a position he could defend but attacking was simply not something he had the numbers for. Malav stood and stalked to the table with the unrolled map pinned to it, glaring down at it as if willing it to show him something he had not seen.

A timid knock came from the servant’s door, giving him something more immediate that he could focus his displeasure on. “Vennius,” he nodded toward Lord Varnus’ oldest son, “See who disturbs me.”

He enjoyed watching the younger man’s jaw clench. Being ordered about like a servant did not sit well with him, and it made Malav consider retaining him to take Cerik’s place. If only as punishment for Vanyic’s deception.

He listened to the hushed tones of the servant and heard Vennius’ brusque dismissal. Cerik handled them better, Vennius would never have his skill with servants. Malav waited expectantly.

“Your Majesty, it seems there is a priest of Malies insisting that he be brought to you immediately.” Vennius’ dismissive tone proved his incompetence in Malav’s eyes.

“Then have him brought. He should not be made to wait.” Malav fixed the younger man with a cold stare that made him shrink as his father had. Priests of Malies were not sent on errands lightly. He doubted the priest would be here to congratulate him on his victory, as incomplete as it had been. More likely he was to be chastised for… negligence. The staff was the symbol of his divine right to rule, without it he could be doubted. His wife he needed for the child he owed to Malies, and for her love. He glared at Vennius as he reentered the room, he would not be seduced away from her a second time, this time he would keep his falconet close.

Malav’s eyes moved to the priest carrying what looked like a wrapped blade. He schooled his tone to a pleasant neutrality, “To what do I owe the honor of your visit?”

“The escape of your wife and the offering of your staff to the King of Fools.” The priest’s tone was almost offensively pleasant. “She left Malies an unusually sweet offering and when she sat upon Isemal’s altar in Gaelel and sang of rivers of blood and an army of the damned he chose to have it arranged.”

Malav swayed, “Gaelel. She couldn’t have. She…” His Charyic was out of his reach. She had dared to give away his staff. It was the smirk that passed over Vennius’ face that brought him from shock to purposeful anger. “Rivers of blood. And an army of the damned. I’ve heard her sing of them before. It was one of the first songs she sang when I met her.” He kept his voice cool.

“Malies would undoubtedly like to know the others.” The priest began to unwrap the blade. Its simple clean lines were familiar. However, it no longer gave off a brilliant glow. It seemed to make the light in the room dim.

“I will write down the songs she sang and send them back with you.” Malav raised his eyes from the menacing blade to the priest. “I will strive to be worthy of such a gift, and I will make the rivers run red with blood.”

The priest smiled. “Malies knows you will. This blade will raise the army of the damned she sang of. The dead will rise and obey you. And if you allow it to be taken from you, you will die upon it.”

Malav bowed deeply. “What may I offer Malies, to adequately convey my gratitude, when I next reach the shrine of roots?”

“He would have you bring your wife and child, and the bird.” The priest shrugged as he spoke.

Malav smiled maliciously. “It will be done.”