In book four of the Torrent Skies Saga, Kryrial is scouring the lands, tormenting not only the people of his kingdom but those outside of it. His reach is nearly as vast as his ability.
Lodyne continues her insistence that she is the purpose of Kat...
"Katerin, are you leaving soon?" Graiden stood on the manor's doorstep, looking concerned with Juen'tal and Agrata flanking him.
"No... why?" Panic flickered through Katerin's chest. Something about Graiden's tone, or the dark look in his sharp eyes.
"Can we come in?" Agrata asked, gesturing to the snowfall that had been picking up in the last hours.
"Of course." Katerin gestured them in. She jerked her chin towards the lounge. "Fykes! Brazen!" she called, her voice echoing up the stairs, and hopefully reaching them, if they were upstairs. Once she had her guests settled, she proffered a pot. "Coffee, tea?"
All accepted her offer, which only made her nervous. They never stayed for tea, unless something was wrong. Hells, they rarely visited, unless she had invited them or unless something was wrong. Images of all the wrongness that could be, started blooming in her thoughts, and she bit her lip to keep them at bay.
Fykes appeared at the door with snow covering his boots, and a tear in his shirt. "Brazen is... preoccupied. His alligator went after the chickens, and..." he trailed off, seeing the concerned-looking trio, all of them sipping from their mugs. He waved a hand and joined Katerin.
Katerin finally sat, hands clasped over her knees. "Graiden, what's going on?"
"Four days ago, Mikhale and Donovar went to Bristlecomb, to convince them to evacuate to the Rastridge... They have disappeared. No word from either, or the hundred men they took."
"Not nothing," Agrata said. "They found... a... well, they found no people, no blood, no tracks on the outside of the forest. Which to me says they found something bad."
Graiden nodded, "I need someone who is good with magic. I can't go, and I can't send Typhon. I need him. No one enlisted, has the same skill as you."
"We can leave tonight," Katerin said. "All I need is an hour to prepare."
"Take these two with you. You'll need someone who knows the area, and someone who can track."
Katerin bit her tongue as she looked to Juen'tal. He was staring disinterestedly at the bar, and as always, he looked tense, as if he expected to have to fight at a moment's notice. She wondered why him, when she knew Lugaria to be perfectly capable of tracking anything.
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From Rastridge, the snow-covered plains greeted them. Due to the wind over the hill covered landscape, the snow was taller than their knees in places, and sparse enough in others to make out the amber blades of grass that were frosted over. Everyone aside from Fykes was quiet. He whistled a soft tune. That was likely the only thing that kept Katerin sane. Lodyne's presence had been forefront in her mind, and her fingers itched for the book in her pocket. The feeling and the insights the book of Ralore brought were astounding—almost addicting—but Katerin kept her hands well away from it. She might need it later, but for now, it had nothing to offer.
