Hierarchy (Book Four of the Torrent Skies Saga)

Chapter Forty-Four: Trappings

Katerin could hear the sounds of fighting from below and not seeing it made her uneasy. But it did not overpower her anger. Her anger toward Kryrial's greed, the unsanctimonious evil committed to the people of the city, and the world. She bared her teeth and pulled her staff from her back. This was no sparring match.

"We've danced this dance before, Katerin," Kryrial said, his voice like velvet, his tossed the sheath of his sword to the floor without care, despite its ornate design.

"You should have worn a nicer dress," she spat. With but a thought, lighting arced across her staff, filling the air with a crackling hum. The book of Ralore was humming in her pocket, as if begging her to use it. Not yet, she thought. Not yet.

Before she could swing, Colin charged her.

He bent low and went for her knees. She dodged, looking at him in horror as they spun in a half circle. She could not hurt him, for she had promised Kieneltra. A whisper of sound, and she pivoted to find Kryrial advancing with an ease that befitted a sparring match. Nothing about his appearance had changed, and Katerin reminded herself to be patient. He had to play his hand first. She had to be smarter than him. Better than him. She needed more determination, and more anger.

His first few swings of the double-edged broadsword were tentative, and though she had to work to avoid them, she felt rather like a mouse.

Colin had recovered, and moved around behind her, as if to give her nowhere to go.

A strange smell hit Katerin's senses. Like metal melting. And the source of it was the blade in Kryrial's hands, the fuller and decorative lines along the blade had begun to glow with heat, and she could swear the metal bubbled.

Concentrating, Katerin released thunder around herself, ruffling the fine rug, and tripping up the prince, before he could attack her. She winced as he stumbled, but gave him no more attention than that.

She twirled her staff, invigorated by the lack of pain in her wrist. Every strike was imbued with lightning that made her hair float, and made her chest feel as though it was swelling. In three swings' time, Kryrial was stepping backwards away from the door, and moving toward the balcony ledge. The walls of the hall were scorched from their parries and advances.

Slowly, Kryrial began countering her swings. With one such attack, he caught the inside arc of her staff, stepped close and sent an elbow for her face she only just leaned out of the way, and before she knew what all had happened, she hit the floor, her head cracking against the marble in a dizzying and painful force. Rolling quickly, she avoided the stomp Kryrial sent for her.

Colin had tripped her.

Lightning arced from her staff and whipped across Kryrial's chest, though the weapon never touched him. She feinted towards Colin, and lunged to her feet, fear drying her mouth. She could not let him control the fight. If he did, she would have no chance to win. She swung in short disorienting strikes, doing her best to regain some measure of control. Kryrial parried and dodged her blows with ease until she landed one on his shoulder. He bared his teeth to her and flicked a hand.

A blade nicked the back of her arm, and she stepped into Colin to avoid the brunt of his attack. With a yell of frustration, she slammed her head back, and felt his nose crunch before she twirled away, making sure both of them were in front of her.

Kryrial's face had returned to a smile. His blade, now glowing, was bubbling as well, and it looked as it magma flows were running along the length of the sword. She watched his hands change to familiar clawed appendages, and she set her face into a snarl. "Done playing around?"