Treachery

When Lord Varnus received word from his son that the woman he was hunting for had already managed to escape to Gaelel, the man looked as though he could feel the edge of the blade against his neck already. Cerik’s advice, to postpone going back to ‘give his report’ until the King had been able to cool his temper, was well received.

Thoughts of treason swam through Varnus’ mind, Cerik knew they did, but he was smart enough not to speak of them. He needed a push. Vennius’ frantic report from Malav’s display at the Dragon’s Head Pass seemed as though it might suffice. Even Cerik felt a bit of horror reading it.

The closer Lord Varnus got to the back of Malav’s advancing army the more tales of abomination were relayed. Many believed Malav had gone too far. Waking the dead and forcing them to fight their own kin was too loathsome for words. And as they caught up to the rear flank of Malav's army of the damned, the stench was overpowering. Cerik wasn't sure what was worse, looking at the dead men or smelling them.

By the time they reached Cearaden, Varnus had quietly organized a small group of soldiers. They were skilled, and they would be able to get close enough to the Dread King, as he had come to be called, to end him. Varnus rode without fear toward the gates. Cerik rode next to him with a much wiser sense of anxiety.

Malav met them just inside the gate, riding unhooded. Cerik knew the look on his face. He was pleasantly surprised. With Malav in a good mood, this could go better than anticipated. Cerik made a single gesture. His thumb from the base of his throat to under his ear and out along his cheek in a fluid motion. He had taught it to Malav, he would know it meant a threat on his life.

As Malav began to laugh and drew his sword Varnus desperately ordered the attack, but it was already too late. The soldiers were slaughtered in moments and Varnus was pulled from his horse.

“I thank you for your warning, Cerik.” Malav’s eyes glittered as he spoke.

Cerik dismounted and bowed. “I hope it wasn’t unexpected, your Majesty?”

Varnus cursed his treachery, but not for long, Malav struck his head off with the blade. He then commanded, “Rise and take your head to the palace taxidermist to have it preserved and mounted for my wall.” The body rose to its knees and began to feel around hunting for its head. “Vennius? Help your father. And make certain they do an excellent job of mounting the head.”

Malav’s malicious smile seemed to find its way to the faces of the corpses surrounding him. Cerik shivered.

As a sick looking Vennius helped his father’s corpse to the palace, carrying its head, Malav turned back to Cerik and looked at him speculatively. “You wish to return to my service?”

“I had not asked to leave it, your Majesty.” He allowed himself to look regretful. “I adored the Lady Charyic, and I believed you intended to kill her. Will you forgive me for attempting to serve you both?”

He watched as a flicker of heartache passed across the King’s face. “She adored you as well. And I may need you to help me win her back.”

“I will be glad to do so, my King.” Cerik bowed. “Provided you treat her as you should.” He dared to glance up after a moment of silence.

Malav was smiling faintly, “I will treat her like the queen she is.”

Cerik smiled in return, “Let us fetch your lovely wife home, my King.”

“We ride to Gaelel. I will burn it to the ground if they do not give her to me.” Malav pulled himself back onto his horse and Cerik followed suit falling in with the King’s dead guards.