As Nisari’s wind forced The Wily Seal to drift past the sinking Driftbranch, Yethyr’s hunters eagerly leapt onto its deck. They boarded it with desperate and violent zeal.
To escape a damaged ship. To capture Kvelir. To commandeer his vessel.
The stakes were high.
The thralls upon The Wily Seal thought so as well. They were convinced that the force swarming upon them would slaughter them all, and so they fought.
They had no proper weapons. As I understood it, thralls were very deliberately not permitted to carry weapons, but they grabbed what they could: planks and nails and even daggers they must have stolen from the hunters’ rooms.
But they were inexperienced and against even the small number of fully armored, fully realized, and fully prepared Brinn hunters, they were doomed.
“Any who does not fight will be spared!” Yethyr cried over the bloodshed using the loud horn. “We only wish to apprehend Kvelir.”
Some backed off. Most didn’t.
It was a massacre.
I tried to urge Yethyr to join the bloodshed. If something so horrifying was going to occur, I might as well make it serve my goals, but Yethyr was unmoved. He stood apart, as did Jaetheiri, and made no move to participate.
The only thing that tempted him was the sight of Kvelir. He fought like a man possessed, and Yethyr desperately wanted to be the one to vanquish him.
But he knew himself, and to my alarm, he was beginning to know me. He knew I would urge him to kill, perhaps even succeed, and he could not allow me the opportunity.
With resentment, he let Hegrir and Grokar subdue and restrain Kvelir and drag the thief before him.
Even bound, Kvelir cracked a tired smile. “I know you have chided me for my haste in the past, my prince, but this is excessive.”
“That is not why we gave chase, and you know it.”
“What have you done now, rude boy?” Nisari chided as she emerged from below deck. “Your antics disturbed my nap.
“Forgive me, aeromancer,” Kvelir said sarcastically, “I was trying to be discreet.”
She yawned. “What is it this time?”
“Kvelir stands accused of stealing from the spoils of the Teshir and Shumari, a heresy of the highest order.”
Nisari huffed. “So that’s why you were constantly pushing to go faster. Running away from your crimes. Only you would be so cowardly.”
Kvelir cocked his head. “Only me, you say? I only took from Teshir. I know nothing of Shumari.”
Yethyr frowned at Kvelir’s knowing smirk.
“Where is Tular?”
Tular was escorted up to the deck by Dethur and Umbar. He had handed over his warfang and offered no resistance.
“I am confused, my prince. Why have you attacked?”
“Your old Hunting Party was among those chasing us,” Yethyr said. “How do you account for that?”
Tular furrowed his brow. “I do not account for it. Captain Shumari never behaved like a heretic in my presence.”
“Teshir’s Hunting Party was also among them.”
“I find that unlikely. My captain and Teshir were scheduled to have a duel at sunset the day we broke camp over some artifact from Datrea. They were not friendly.”
“What artifact?”
Tular shrugged. “Some lockbox. I never got a good look at what was inside.”
“Apparently, that artifact was stolen.”
“I knew nothing of that…”
“No, no no no,” Kvelir cut Tular off with vicious glee. “You wanted half of the profits, you get half of the blame. You stole the key from your hunt captain. It was your idea to volunteer for this hunt to make a quick escape. I refuse for you to let me take the fall. Search him! He has a key to that blasted Datrean lockbox.”
I believed that. If I listened carefully, I could hear something that sang of Datrean steelsong in the pocket of his tunic.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
I had not questioned it. They all had looted the city. Hegrir had something that whispered of stonesong. Yethyr himself had me and my father’s coat. Tular’s subtle hum of steelsong has not been notable until this very moment.
“Search him,” Yethyr commanded, and through my influence, added, “try the right pocket.”
He did not question why he suggested that. The Prince was too distracted by the ornate key that emerged from Tular’s pocket.
Tular was seized by Dethur and Umbar. He fought, and Dethur seemed to take vicious glee in the rough treatment required to keep Tular still.
Kvelir did as well. He laughed so hard his body shook in Hegrir and Grokar’s grip. “Ha! Don’t you wish that you had given me the key when you could? You would have had nothing to tie you to me, and you would be free.”
“Hardly.” Tular stopped struggling just to hold his head up high. “You would have slit my throat at the earliest opportunity and made off with all the treasure.”
“So you are a thief!” Dathari cried.
Tular flinched. “Dath…”
“No,” she spat. “Do not mock me with your insincerity.”
“Huntress Dathari,” Tular corrected. “My intentions toward you were not insincere.”
“Intentions?” Dethur frowned. “What have you been letting him do?”
Dath wrinkled her nose. “Disgusting things now that I know the worm that I did them with.” She shuddered. “I feel ill-used and demand satisfaction!”
“I was under the impression that I gave you plenty of satisfaction,” Tular said dryly.
I had no idea what that meant, but everyone on deck gasped, and Dathari was furious.
“I will cut out your tongue as well as your heart when I am through. If you act as prey, I will treat you as such.”
Yethyr was horrified. “I will not permit that!”
“My prince,” Jaetheiri suddenly said. “Allow a huntress this recompense.”
“We have lost too many for this hunt already. I can’t risk losing another—”
“Tezem.”
They looked at one another. Jaetheiri’s expression was glacial, but Yethyr seemed to recognize a righteous fire in her eyes.
“Give her the courtesy that you have always given me.”
I heard several onlookers catch their breath. People did not command Yethyr lightly, but they seemed to understand why she did. They knew what she was referring to, even if I didn’t.
Yethyr ignored them all. He was seized by a passionate intensity I struggled to label. It burned like frustration; it soothed like acceptance.
“Return Tular his warfang,” Yethyr commanded, but his eyes never left Jaetheiri’s challenging stare. “For you,” he hissed, and Jaetheiri’s smile was as quick and bright as a sun ray.
“Thank you, Venerated Victor,” Dath said gratefully. “My prince—”
“Don’t thank me,” Yethyr said sharply. “Do not waste this chance that my Tezem has given you.”
“I won’t.”
Tular’s weapon was returned to him, and he shrugged out of Dethur and Umbar’s grip, and Dathari unsheathed her warfang.
“Mocking Fang of Maethe, “ she pointed her red blade at Tular. “This one steals spoils of a divine hunt,” Dath cried. “I dedicate my fury to you.”
“Conquering Fang, I send a stupid girl your way.” Tular spat. “Do with her what you will.”
It was only then that it sunk in for me that Dathari and Tular were about to duel to the death.
Oh.
I didn’t understand why Dathari specifically took offense at Tular’s deception. I had heard them become close friends, and they did seem to visit each other’s cabins quite a bit, but I was not sure what all that meant. Everyone else seemed to. No one questioned Dathari’s opinion that she had been slighted.
“Do you want me to stand for you?” Dethur whispered to his sister. “If you don't want to sully your hands—”
“I’ll do it, Deth,” Dathari said firmly. “I let that heretic touch me.”
“No one here thinks you’re tainted by his blasphemy,” her brother assured her.
“But I do. I need to be the one to cleanse myself in his blood.”
Dethur nodded. “Then feed him to Maethe, sister.”
The hunters made a semicircle on the deck, Dathari and Tular in the center, and Yethyr’s heart was pounding.
At once, I understood the Prince’s dilemma. Allowing this duel to proceed put two of his ever-shrinking hunting party at risk. He might very well have to kill Tular for treason, but he wanted…needed to avoid that. Now, he was forced to hope Dathari killed Tular, instead of the reverse.
Because if Tular won…he would lose a hunter that he hadn’t needed to execute for treason. In fact, Yethyr was half convinced he would lose two. Dethur had made no secret that he was on this hunt for his sister. If she died, he would have no incentive to stay.
Yethyr was at risk of losing 3 hunters due to this one duel.
Yethyr glared at Jaetheiri. “You picked an awfully inconvenient time to abuse my inability to deny you anything.”
Jaetheiri smiled again.
The Prince did not feel like smiling. He focused on hunters, analyzing for any clues toward the outcome. Tular was stronger and more experienced, but Dathari imitated Jaetheiri’s light and explosive style.
It could go either way.
Everyone on the ship began stomping their feet. They fell into an even rhythm, loud and droning and echoing across the entire lake. It sounded primal; it felt ritualistic. I had no idea what it meant.
Tular swung, and Dathari narrowly darted out of the way. Dathari retaliated, and he parried. He tried to use momentum to get a quick hit on her, but she was faster.
For me, the fight was slow and easy to read. I felt like entire sieges had been won and lost in the time between each clash of fang against fang.
In reality, though, the whole exchange took five seconds.
It was five seconds of beautiful motion. It was five seconds of Yethyr fretting in suspense.
It was five seconds before Dath plunged her warfang into Tular’s chest. He stumbled back toward the railing of the deck, and Dath kept with him, determined to keep her blade in him until the life left his eyes.
Viciously, she ripped his spyglass from his belt. “Do you want anything from him, Tezem?”
Dethur curled his lip. “Spoils from him are fit only for the fish.”
Dath nodded and unceremoniously kicked Tular’s body into the water.
Just like that, Yethyr’s hunting party was down to ten, and it was still at risk of dropping further.
There was still Kvelir to deal with.
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Should Yethyr execute Kvelir?
