Ruein: Fires of Haraden: Action/Adventure Necromancy Series (Books of Ruein Book 2), G.O. Turner [little bear else holmelund minarik txt] 📗

Liv slumped. “Shit.”

Ceer thumped his temple. “Lightbringer should know. Hard to beat trained mind.”

A shiver flit over Twigs’ shoulders. He swallowed. “It’s a curse, yes? What can we do? How do we help?”

“You can’t,” said Liv.

Ruein drew their mounts over to a sapling tree. She looped reins, loosened tackle, and listened.

Twigs wagged a finger. “Means of the soul may seem all of your purview, Lightbringer, but thistle and thorn, is not the natural an equal party? I may not know a how. That don’t mean I cannot know a who.”

Liv huffed. “There’s no one who can help her.”

“But she’s our friend,” implored Twigs.

“She is dead.” Liv knelt to the gnome.

With her white gauntlet fabric, she brushed aside a droplet from the little guy’s eye. “Trust my truth when I say, there is no way in heavens or hells of coming back.” Liv smirked. “At least, not any further than she already is.”

Half closing a lid, Liv cocked her head. “Is that why you two are here?”

Half-orc and gnome eye each other.

Ceer leaned back. “Ceer want—”

Twigs cleared his throat and stepped under. “We’ve been too cooped up in Vandraport. Felt it was time we got out. Ceer here needs to stretch those stalks he calls legs. Got us to ruminating last night. We’ve been all over Deepwater, Shining Coasts…you know…the usuals. Loads have seen all those places. Why not instead—”

“Haraden,” finished Ceer.

Ruein rounded.

Liv followed Ceer and Twigs’ gaze over to her sister. The half-orc flung a hand at Ruein. “You not want job. Ceer want.”

“Rue”—Twigs shuffled closer—“if they have a need to unearth a murderer, who better than a druid? Eh? Hadn’t thought of that one, had ya?”

Ruein’s only offer, a vacant stare.

Twigs’ foot swept over the dirt before him. “I mean, you know, plants talk. ’Course not in common, but…”

This wasn’t why she’d come back.

With a turn of her head, Ruein strode to an adjacent tree. Reaching into a crook, she withdrew a pair of vines, the entry pulley. With steady draws, arm over arm, she lowered the platform to the ground, stepped up, and waited.

Liv half-heartedly rolled her head before heading to her partner.

Of course, the duo shadowed right along. The pitter of gnome’s footfalls was a staccato for every stride of his larger partner. Twigs didn’t relent. “Loving loam, Rue. We know you’ve suffered far, far too much. And who knows what that necro-witch has done to worsen things.”

Ruein flinched, snapping him a withered look.

Twigs skidded to a stop. He shoved back at Ceer’s shin. The two hesitated as Liv stepped up alongside Ruein.

The half-orc crossed arms, glowering over his tusks at the two women. “Twigs and Ceer can take burden.” he snorted. “Rue not want. Should give. Haraden rich. Think how gold will help.”

Liv blinked. “Help?”

He huffed back, “Ceer Wayward Home for Wittle Warriors. Liv forget?”

“How could I? Someone who gives so much of themselves,” Liv responded. She moved to tug on the vine herself.

Ruein stared. “Were neither of you listening last night? The invite is for a necromancer…and I…am…not…Rue.”

She held their gazes as they rose up, only relenting once at the entry. Stowing the pulley, Ruein marched through the front door. Liv followed.

Crossing the sylvan etched floors, Ruein stopped at the table. The box and parchment remained undisturbed. Apparently, the boys had respected boundaries while in-wait outside. Ruein snatched up the paper and handed it to her sister.

Liv flicked at the embossed wax. “Seal is already broken.”

“Of course it was. How else would the Doctorate know what the offer was?”

Paper rustled as Liv rolled it out.

Ruein opened the bedroom door. She didn’t expect anything. Still, an urge brewed within. The rumpled covers and sheets, the subtle swing of the bed, reminders of who this place was for.

This was her impetus. Why she gave a damn at all.

Liv called over her shoulder, “Looks like this is an invite from the Haraden council to a necromancer they’ve contracted before—a Vrimon. One of the Doctorate?”

“How should I know?”

A grunt from below caught Ruein’s ear, then the motion of something dropping beyond the living room rail.

Liv continued, “Says, after a decade of quiet, there’s been a spate of deaths. The council is doing its best to keep the peace. They’ve kept things quiet so that the populace is unaware. Looks like they’d prefer you maintain that.”

Twigs sprang up just outside the rail—“What’s a spate?”—then dropped back below.

Liv whipped around, eyeing the forest canopy. She glanced back at Ruein. “Said they’d receive the usual payment…three thousand gold.”

Glaring eyes, mouth agape, Twigs’ arms and legs spread wide as he crested up before them—“Woohoo! Now, that’ll help”—and fell from sight.

Ruein and Liv peered below. A full eight yards to the ground, Ceer slowed the gnome’s descent into a cradled catch. The half-orc flashed a look up. “Three thousand!?”

Liv regarded her. “They seem pretty committed.”

“It will take more than talking to plants.” Ruein crossed the polished floor to the table. She rested a hand on the box’s handle. The plain construction and choice of cedar could be considered…polite. Ruein already knew what it contained.

Releasing the bottom latches, she pulled the cover.

Twigs chirped. “C’mon, Liv. We need to get a…head.” His tiny hand latched onto an overhead branch. He paled and his face went slack. “…of…this.”

The decapitated head listed in the welled-bottomed box. Mottled, putrid skin showed the pass of several days. Blonde hair was matted with bodily fluids and the tumble of the road. The eyes skewed in opposite directions. Rounded ears and light skin—he was human.

Twigs dangled on the limb, glaring. “Oh, that’s so wrong.”

Liv drolled, “Fu⁠—uck. Tell me you’re not going to⁠—” Words caught in her throat. Her gaze spiraled over the carved polished floors. “Shit. Of course, you are. Why else would Haraden send for a necromancer?”

A breeze wafted the stench of death over the treeflet. While she’d little doubt her former-self would’ve been able to manage the smell, Ruein had no cause for gagging. Ruein registered Twigs’ look of shock alongside Liv’s. It was easy to recall the gnome’s