Hierarchy (Book Four of the Torrent Skies Saga)

Chapter Forty-Two: Devious Dealings

Katerin was restless. Fykes slept beside her, his hair splayed around his head. Katerin sighed, pulling her eyes from him. She had things to do, and she needed to get after them. Maybe then she could sleep.

With swift but quiet movements, Katerin plucked the book of Ralore from where she kept it in the dresser. Touching the book was electrifying. As if her senses had been dull and lacking without it. She took a breath to calm herself. Don't get too excited, she thought. To herself and the book. Tomorrow, she had already promised herself, was the last time she would use it. For Kryrial, and nothing else. It was too dangerous. Too much for her.

She had one more thing to do with it, before then. Maybe it was a selfish thing. But it was for Fykes. She had to try. Every time she had glimpsed him with the aura sight of Ralore's tome, it had seemed worse. He may not want to tell her about, but she knew it was bothering him. It was there in the depths of his gaze, or when he thought she was asleep, or when he came in late, tired from his day's endeavors. She carefully sat back down on the bed, the book of Ralore open on her crossed legs.

She closed her eyes and let the book of Ralore wash over her senses. Opening her eyes again was like seeing the world in a fresh way. It was bright, and vibrant, connected. She felt a sense of power and knowledge that every other aspect of her life could not fill. But so too, did she sense Lodyne, closer, knowing, and waiting.

Katerin, the goddess's tone had a warning in its softness, you should not—

Don't interfere, she thought.

He's yours to ruin, Lodyne said, smugly. All it takes is one misguided touch. A misplaced certainty.

Katerin shook herself, ignoring Lodyne's voice, and turning her focus to Fykes. She turned her thoughts to those of healing, and regrowth, and reached out a finger. With a soft, careful and fearful motion, she bid the book of Ralore to work.

And work it did.

With tears welling in her eyes at the beauty of it, the energy around Fykes slowly lost its tattered, hole filled appearance. The holes knitted as if they had never been, and the colors of it, a prism in white and gold, intensified, so much so that over the course of the next several minutes, Katerin could see nothing but the energy, and the outline of Fykes' form, beneath it.

She could almost hear a humming as she blinked the pain from her eyes. As she thought to pull her hands from the book, she felt it resist. As if it was reluctant to lose her touch. She stiffened and tried again. As long as it had taken her to heal Fykes, it took her just as long to release the book. And with all the power of will it took her, the book tumbled off her legs to land with a fwump, on the rug.

Katerin released a shaky, relieved breath as the world around her dulled again. A part of her mind lamented the unfairness of it all. A part of her wished she could hold the book close to her at all times. It was akin to a feeling of perfect intoxication. But the effects were much worse than an ache in head and limbs. So much worse.

With a groan, and a settling of her thoughts, Katerin picked up the book of Ralore with a kerchief, and placed it back in the dresser, before she moved on to her next task.

Lodyne? She called in her thoughts. She contented herself to waiting. And she waited so long she thought the goddess might refuse her attempts, but before she had thought up another way to garner the goddess' attention, that soft and tempting voice rang between her ears.

Yes, child?

Katerin's teeth ground. She did not want to do this. There were a thousand ways she could be wronged, deceived, tricked, and ruined. But Kryrial would not fall without the goddess' help. She was not fool enough to believe that. She felt as though she stood on a cliff's edge, with no way down but to jump. She gulped and gathered her courage. I'll need your help tomorrow, she said, reluctant admittance causing anger to rise.