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

Nodding to indicate the crowd, Liv cast Ruein a look. She was implying something.

Liv’s grip tightened. Her look became a frustrated stare. She thrust her chin back at the crowd.

Oh. “You cannot be serious,” Ruein whispered.

Liv held firm, her glare all the more earnest. Ruein scanned the courtyard. Another squad of Elite held the perimeter. They’d a small army here, all outfitted with an array of weapons. Standing tall, Ruein offered her own glare at Liv.

It didn’t matter. Liv remained, unblinking. There would not be another way. She was going to be held to her word.

Ruein regarded the overcast swirl above, then hung her head to the damp earth below. Resigning herself, she looked over the crowd then nodded at the one Liv’d had a brush with before—Stol.

Releasing her grip on Ruein, Liv made straight for the man.

Dark gods. This was absolutely the wrong time for an open brawl. Ruein trailed her, whipping through her inventory of options. She could sap some of Liv’s strength, heighten her fears. But knowing Liv, that would only make matters worse. Time had taught, there’s no way of assuaging such holy morality.

Colliding against Stol, Liv stopped just short of knocking him over. The armored woman applied her weight. The Nursker stumbled and wheeled around.

Their eyes locked.

Stol leaned in.

Ruein checked the guards. None reacted. This hadn’t gotten out of hand; not yet. Liv’s gauntlet slipped beneath her vestments. No. Don’t do that. Her sister was unhooking her mace.

Liv regarded the other Nurskers taking notice. “Tis folly to dismiss the bilge rat, for his nature is diseased and fells far more than his size,” she said and returned her stare to Stol. Her grip opened.

Stol lurched as something crunched. Stooping over and wincing, he grabbed at his foot. Liv’s family mace flopped off his boot to land in the mud. She had simply dropped it, allowing its weight to inflict.

Liv’s free hand shot out, grabbing Stol before he collapsed forward.

Heads of the Elites snapped to their position. Tensed arms reached for scabbards and polearms.

Stol’s grimace tightened. He snatched for the mace on the ground. As Liv uprighted him, her other hand withdrew something else—an ice-crusted codfish—which she shoved down his pants.

Stol’s startled eyes enlarged to a stare. He tightened his fist upon her mace. Rearing, Stol froze. Only then did he become aware of the Elite closing in. Ruein slowly pivoted, covering her sister’s back.

“A man does not betray those under his watch,” Liv whispered. “Be you man or bilge rat?”

The Nursker’s rage began to flicker, his eyes darting about. Circumstances were not in their favor.

Stol cringed at the shake of his leg. The cod squished out, frost dribbling from his pant cuff. Lowering the mace, he offered it to Liv. “Heh, yes. Well, I’ll try to remember that.”

The Elite encirclement slowed.

Re-hooking her weapon, Liv patted Stol’s chest. “Glad to enlighten.”

Turning about, Liv came back alongside Ruein and they returned to Leafar’s side.

White-furred shoulders sagged as the soldiers backed up to their posted positions. Grimaces and scowls were exchanged in their wake.

The pressure in Ruein’s chest eased as a modicum of air slipped out. Had she been holding that?

Their troupe gathered toward the back tables. Seated upon one, Leafar and Twigs appraised Ruein and Liv’s approach. Ceer offered a toothy grin and crossed his arms in a lean. The stable wall creaked from the strain.

Leafar stared through his bushy brows. “You may be afforded grace where you come from, Lightbringer. I assure you, playing like that here will make you fair game.”

“Stol got off easy.” Liv rested a hand upon her mace. “He’ll think twice now before endangering our party again.”

“I’d agree if I believed thinking is what Stol spends a good deal of time doing. This is not Deepwater. You are only guests, as much as they’ve made no determination about—”

“What good are rules if your visitors can’t read them?” Ruein interjected, her gaze fixed upon the back wall.

Leafar looked over. “Eh? What’s that?”

Several spiked parchments dotted the planks of the stable. Bulleted text lined each, one set foreign to Ruein, the other undercommon. “These are posted restrictions: notices, curfew times, cautions against venturing into wooded areas.”

“Oh. The bills aren’t for us.” Leafar thumbed toward the wagon court. “Caravan is here to unload and reload. That and ole Leafar gets a few days to recoup. Nurskers aren’t permitted to wander about anyhow. They keep to the keep.”

“And this?” Ruein pointed to a well-etched drawing, its central focus a rather feisty looking goblin.

Leafar made a double take. “Holy… That thing still up? Would’ve thunk he’d been nabbed by now. The goblin was one of the raiders that rolled in with my last run. Crafty little shit. While the rest were taken in chains, this slippery snot managed to slip away.”

“You think he escaped by now?” asked Ruein.

“The Realm?” Leafar smiled, throwing a thumb back up to the sealed Haraden door. “That is the only way in or out. Since I’m the one who can navigate the white, it only opens up for me. So, no. He’s still here…somewhere.”

Liv eyed the others, then regarded Leafar. “If Haraden is mainly underdark refugees, couldn’t he just blend in with them?”

Leafar gave a dismissive wave. “Note the Elites’ bracers? The bracelets on everyone else? They’re bands of citizenship, a closed Haraden steel loop that only azer’s can forge. Some rando goblin can’t simply steal one. So, he’d stick out.”

Liv smirked. “Doesn’t seem like much of a threat. A lone marauding goblin running loose.”

“That snot was more of a rascal than a ruffian.” Leafar shook his head. “No. He’d be hiding. Might think he can weasel some way out only because he doesn’t yet realize there isn’t one.”

Ceer scanned the poster, brow furrowed. “Where price on goblin? Ceer not see reward.”

“No bounty. He’s just wanted.” Ruein observed.

“Haraden acts out of what’s best for Haraden,” Leafar responded. “Their people haven’t much need for dangling carrots.”

“Ceer not from Haraden.”

“And I like