In book two of the Torrent Skies Saga, Katerin continues to find adventure she didn't ask for, and the answers she finds only offer her more questions to answer.
Itrea is on the brink of peril, but Katerin's dreams are growing restless, a dark voic...
Graiden shuffled papers around on his desk, listening intently to his scouts. Lugaria and Agrata both had come back, no doubt to escape a crowd of people that would only be growing. But he was glad for it. Neither of them wasted any words, and they both knew the details he wanted. "Avris informed me they are already moving," he said.
"Their whole force is moving. But some are going to split off towards Uhm'trimbyha," Lugaria said.
"We'll need more people, Graiden," Agrata's voice was quiet, and held none of its usual cheery undertones.
"Mikhale isn't going to be happy about this."
Lugaria shrugged. "He'll be a lot less enthused when the men you already sent all die."
Agrata blinked at him.
"I know," Griaden said.
"Also," Agrata said. "Beymor wants to hold if there's a siege, and asks for more supplies." He fished a piece of parchment from his pocket and handed it over.
Graiden stared at it, feeling an ache at the edge of his temples. What kind of world was it, where it was easier to find men to fight a war than it was to find enough food and bandages. "I'll get it sorted out. Can Aughk'tor's walls hold a siege?"
"They should hold, but we should hope this doesn't come to a siege. They have magics to tunnel through the walls, and only parts of the walls are warded to stop this."
"I'm less worried about magic, and more worried about these." Graiden tapped the papers on his desk, one with sketches of siege machines. Most of them were common. Trebuchets, catapults, and ballista. Some, were far more... viscous. The orcish grinder, for example. It was a large contraption with heavy wheels meant to be pushed through an army line. Several large blades and metal spikes would trap and cut anyone in its path into pieces, a nightmare if you fought at the bottom of a hill.
"They can be stopped," Lugaria said, with a tense expression.
Agrata wrinkled his nose. "Maybe. I might be able to splinter a part of the wheels, but I won't know for sure until I can try it."
Graiden shook his head, "I'm sure you'll get a chance to try." He stood and plucked his cloak from the back of his chair, glancing out the window of his office. "Come on, we'll go talk to Mikhale and start organizing this mess."
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Fykes approached Magrum with tentative steps, as the dwarf stomped angrily back and forth across the deck. "What's the plan, captain?"
"Three days and we haven't lost em!" Magrum shouted, spitting over the railing of his ship. "The persistent bastards want a fight."
Fykes stood with his hands clasped in front of him patiently, while Magrum continued his rant for a moment longer. Finally the dwarf stopped, huffed out a heavy breath.
"You know how to work the cannons, and we're gonna need em."
Fykes nodded. "I can do that. How far are we from the next island?"
