Yethyr had moments to react.
“Stop rowing!” He called down to the thralls over the sound of the pounding wind, but it wouldn’t be enough “Nisari! Slow us down!”
He could not know if she heard him. Still, a horn split through the air, and the roaring gale abruptly switched directions, working to slow the ships down, The Wily Seal more effectively than The Finrider.
Kvelir had clearly seen the danger from where he stood on his deck and had stopped the rowing earlier. As such, his ship was easier to slow.
The Finrider blew past The Wily Seal and slammed into the sandy bank. Everyone lurched. Some fell overboard, but their screams were swallowed up by the terrible grinding of sand against wood.
The Wily Seal hit the riverbank a few seconds later, much slower and much gentler.
Everyone hopped off the boats onto the beach to assess the damage.
The Finrider’s hull was ruined beyond what the thralls knew how to repair. The Wily Seal’s damage was lighter. They thought it could be fixed in a couple of hours.
“How far out is the chasing fleet?”
Tular scurried up the mast of The (now beached) Wily Seal. “I can’t see them.”
“Keep a lookout,” Yethyr said, “Call out if that changes.” He turned to the thralls. “Do what you can for The Wily Seal.”
They scurried off, bringing out tools and directing hunters to cut down pine trees for them.
They were not allowed a weapon sharp enough to do it themselves.
“My prince, this entourage can’t all fit on one ship,” Grokar said. “We’re going to have to leave thralls and supplies behind.”
“Nonsense.” Yethyr directed a few thralls to bring him the giant ropes he had left in his cabin. “We have plenty of ships to replace The Finrider. They are coming our way now.”
Grokar gasped. “You intend for us to fight an entire hunting party? Given the size of the force, possibly two?”
“They have insulted the authority of my father. I intend to kill them all.”
Which meant a death circle, I realized and shuddered.
He laid two long ropes down on the dry solid ground. Now free from the shaking of a speeding boat, he got to work, delicately painting deathsong notation in black wyvern blood along the first rope.
The hunters found his work frightening and knew to give him a wide berth, and yet, a shadow fell on his work. “How can I help?”
Yethyr looked up at Wes. “Do you think you understand enough to help?”
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“I know enough to help with the structure. You once told me that the details of the composition do not need to be present in the entire circle. Dictate to me a simple repetitive melody that will compliment the bulk of your work and I can start drawing.”
“Are your hands steady enough?”
Wes straightened. “I passed the Trial of Seven Soldered Hinges.” He rolled a golden Datrean coin along his bony fingers. “My hands are doubtless steadier than yours.”
Yethyr was out of time and out of options.
“Very well.” He stood and went over to the tree nearest to the river. He began to paint a simple repeating melody on the tree itself. He painted down the trunk and then directly onto the sandy bank itself. It was a straight black line in the ground, so disturbingly similar to what encompassed Datrea that I didn’t want to look at it.
Yethyr handed Wes a new jar of Cozzat wyvern blood and a brush. “I need you to paint this pattern along the riverbank, from this tree to…” Yethyr considered. “...that rock over there. That should encompass most of the fleet”
“Do you want me to repeat it on the opposite river bank as well? We have to close the loop, yes?”
“If you finish before I finish the ropes, you can get someone who can swim to take you over there to start it.”
“I can swim.”
“No. You will find, as a skeleton, that you will sink.”
“Ah.” Wes cocked his head. “Regardless, this project will be more like a giant rectangle than a circle, won’t it?”
“Did you think what I drew around Datrea was a perfect circle?”
The reminder made Wes and I shudder together.
“So long as it is closed and continuous, it can function.”
“That’s why you’re using ropes,” Wes suddenly realized. “You intend to hide them under the water, completing the circle out of view. The fleet will sail into it without even realizing it!”
“You understand. Get to it.”
Wes did and Yethyr watched him for a moment. Besides a minor correction, he really could imitate Yethyr’s notation exactly.
An apprentice of Daened indeed, I heard him think.
The Prince left him to return to his first rope. The ropes were the key based on his scheme. The bulk of the deathsong’s content was going into them since he had to add additional notation to ensure the unevenness of the angle would not disrupt the composition.
He drew carefully. As it happened, the music to slaughter an entire fleet was intricate and he had to ensure every line was perfect.
I was not sure he had time for that perfection. The fleet was sure to appear in Tular’s spyglass sooner rather than later. He needed to go faster while not sacrificing the quality of his lines.
Carefully, I steadied his hand.
Yethyr paused, sensing my strength at his fingertips. It was the same as when I helped him hold up my hilt; he could not mistake my influence and he hesitated to trust it. He couldn’t trust me, he was certain. He had to push me away.
“I see the boats!” Tular shouted.
“How much time do we have?”
“Maybe two hours! At most!”
Yethyr could not afford to reject my help. He began to draw again, hand steadier than it had ever been, hand faster than it had ever been, each stroke precise and clinical. He knew what he drew intellectually, but I could feel it. The meaning came to me as easy as breathing, as easy as thought.
I heard him call upon Kenth, the Conquering Fang, and his holy pact with the Prince. I heard Yethyr bind the Death Circle to his pendant which, according to his composition, belonged to the Conquering Fang himself, a vessel for him to drink from one day. The thousands and thousands of spirits that Yethyr had collected in it were a sacrifice for the Conquering Fang.
The spirits of the entire city of Datrea…
Yethyr intended to offer them all to be devoured by his angel.
My horror wobbled Yethyr’s hand and just like that, the deathsong notation that could kill them all smudged.
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