Hierarchy (Book Four of the Torrent Skies Saga)

Chapter Eleven: High Standing, Pt 2

As the meeting wore on, Fykes and Brazen both volunteered for the front lines with Graiden. Katerin tried to join them, but Graiden dissuaded her. Her wrist was of no use in close combat, he said. She could be with the archers, or on the ships.

And so she chose the archers, hating the thought of Brazen and Fykes without her.

The only thing that made it bearable was that Cartage stood with the archers as well.

When the meeting concluded with both parties appeased, if not satisfied, Katerin left the tent with Fykes, Brazen, and Jon. The winter air was somehow still humid, and Katerin took a heavy breath through pursed lips, eyeing Fykes.

Walking the streets, she voiced her question. "Did you put Graiden up to keeping me off the front lines?" While she looked at Fykes, the question was directed towards all of them.

"No," Fykes answered. "But I won't argue with him about it."

Before she could argue, Brazen cleared his throat. "A line has to be steady and strong. There's a reason injured fighters don't stay at the front."

"Are you saying I—" Katerin's anger swelled.

"No," Fykes said, offering her a sympathetic look. "We're saying, and you know, that if you were there, you could get hurt."

"These soldiers have no where near the ability Kryrial does," Katerin said, seeing no reason not to take their words personally.

"A blade is still a blade, even if its wielder is a fool." Jon blew out his mustache. "You still are closer to them than I am. Unless you want to join me on the ship?"

"I'd rather get injured on the front lines, Jon," she said, but she allowed her rising temper to fade.

Brazen laughed and shook his head. "That's the best place for us all."

"Best, sure. But not the right place," Fykes said, reserved.

Before their conversation could continue, they found a tavern and an inn. Fykes acquired rooms, and they ate their dinner in as much serenity as they could. The tavern was energetic, but not the kind one might normally see. It felt as if someone had tied a rope around the whole place, slipping it tighter as minutes passed.

During their meal, Jon coughed, looking across at them with a wild look. "So if this goes badly..."

"It'll go fine," Fykes said, around a mouth-full of fish.

Brazen paused to hear the conversation, and Katerin took a drink of water.

"But if it doesn't," Jon continued with a twinkle in his eye. "I'll have the ship after the battle, and I'll scan the west side of the coast. If you... need a rescue, try and get to the shore."

"Jon, are you saying we should run, if the battle turns?" Katerin raised an eyebrow.

"No, no," Jon said, looking around the tavern with his voice lowered. "I'm saying that if this battle turns, that I'll be waiting along the shoreline to collect the survivors."

"You're really inspiring confidence," Brazen said, his brows furrowed.

"Aye," Jon said, with a laugh, his mustache offing out. "It's an army against a group of rebels, and while I'm all for the victory of the downtrodden and willful, I doubt it'll be pretty." He waved a hand at Brazen's fierce expression. "I'm saying I won't leave you to die."

Katerin grew thoughtful. "Well, I doubt they would kill us. We would likely be taken to Kryrial, instead."

"Enough!" Brazen said, his eyes looking haunted. "Just, worry about that when we come to it? There's no reason to... it won't come to that." He cast a final indecisive glance to Jon.