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

The room returned to its previous gloom.

Liv jabbed an elbow at those ebon-smoked eyes. Her blow clanged against the wall. The shroud coiled its arms, enwrapping her into a squeeze.

Rounding under the grapple, Liv checked the councilman. Aw, fuck me.

The blade struck center, the hilt buried into his face. Liv’s teeth clenched. “Gods damn! What the hells are you?”

Hurling herself forward, Liv tried a shoulder flip. Mid pull, her opponent’s arm released and gripped a wall sconce. They weren’t going over.

Crowding into Liv’s neck plate, floral scents pinged through her mind. A soft, warm voice lilted in her ear, “Wish to save this drow? You are late by months. Look again.” There was something familiar about—

The shroud’s black glove grabbed at Liv’s chin. “What the fuh…” Liv’s jaw dropped.

Evets sat up and withdrew the dagger from his face. The broad cut ran from his cheek through his nose, pinching at his scalp. Drabs of purple life bled out.

Hold up. Drow blood is no different than ours. Why’s it…

Around the gaping wound of Evets’ face, his skin appeared textured. Like tanned hides left long in the sun, gray crevices tiled around the injury. His red drow eyes were no longer even elvish. Broad, recessed, dark orbs limned in indigo, glared back at Liv.

With an errant toss, the dagger clattered to the far side of the room. Evets stretched his neck as both that and his split-face wounds sealed shut.

The shroud whispered in her ear, “Tell me, Lightbringer, would your god afford such charity as to a thing like that?”

What?

Reverting to his drow visage, Evets snaked both arms before him and his outstretched fingers clawed toward the two combatants. The air between wavered.

Liv’s horrendous cry raced throughout her mind. Clamped, as if in a twisting vice, the bones in her skull wrenched upward. Teeth and jaw lit in agony as half of her head warped sideways.

The shroud’s grip fell away as the figure flung herself off.

Evets rose from the floor. “Apologies, Lightbringer. We had no intent against you or yours. That being said…” He ran a hand through his white hair, then kicked at the desk. It slammed into the chamber door, shutting and barring the way. “I’m afraid you have some truths Haraden is not ready for.”

Stabbing out with both hands, the wavering air gripped at Liv’s chest. It seized, twisting and stretching at her heart. Her already racing pulse worked harder as pain stabbed at her with each faltering beat.

Shutting out what she could, Liv twitched for her medallion. Her agonizing end couldn’t be much longer.

“NO!” a voice cried out.

The blight upon her abruptly stopped. She pried open her lids.

The shrouded angel was upon the drow’s back, her black bone-wings arched and beat as she daggered repeatedly into his flank. The floors were sprayed purple in their mad dance about the study.

Liv had no need to take in her condition; she could feel every twist of bone. Swallowing her throat lump, she dove within for hope. More than ever, she needed celestine to ring clear. Putting aside her agony, she enacted.

Her mind’s eye did not hesitate in finding the divine. It opened and poured into her all that which was good. Liv basked in that inner glow. The damage wrought began to unwork.

Past the chimes in her soul, she held onto the happenings in the room. There was a hit and a gasp from the shroud, then a tumble and crash as one combatant flung the other.

“Hello, whore.” Evets’ calm voice grated on Liv’s last nerve. “Care to share how you made your way to me so quickly?”

The shroud’s voice began to rise. “Drow taught. Oh, the things you’d find on a gutted spy. Like your contract, or how Scratch got in—easy. Now, how about you?”

Evets spoke up at her, “I see now why you were considered an aggravating subject. To think, rightful fortunes laid you before us, only to have you slip from Morphetz Stael. But, his one misfortune led us to more than we could have ever hoped for. I am grateful for that fate, for you led us here. Long have the Nazier been without a home. While you remain our prize, this place… This may well be equal to your contribution.”

Another crash and the clang of metal on stone.

Evets’ voice dripped with venom. “Of course, a living subject is ideal for our needs. However, I’ve more to weigh in consideration now.”

Scintillating through her, life flooded Liv. Wondrous as the agony’s abatement felt, her return from where she was wrenched stretched the limits of endurance. Choking down, the warrior within wouldn’t allow a cry. Not a sound. Don’t draw attention.

Her skull and jaw reseated themselves, and Liv ventured a look. The last of her warped rib cage reclaimed its rightful place. The pain passed.

Liv rose from behind the desk and reassessed.

The shrouded angel darted from wall to dome, prancing across the floor with dagger swipes in between. She scaled a balcony pillar, gaining cover. Evets jabbed at the air before the shroud, narrowly missing with each claw.

Liv’s pulse resettled, finding its rhythm.

Alright. Screw all’s been said. Doesn’t matter. You wanna sort this shit? She glanced at her empty weapon hook.

Striding to the bookcase, she clasped the drowess statue. This will do.

Liv squared up behind the less-prancy one.

Evets’ agitation at failing to hit his target hackled up through his back. His arms writhed as they arced through arcane movements. No draconic, no components. But, sure as shit, he was spelling up.

Now.

Amid his final flourish, Liv swung.

The statue broadsided the councilman’s head. Purple spat from his pointed ear, spraying Liv’s face.

Heels over head, Evets hurtled from the chamber, splayed across balcony tiles.

Liv hoisted her shield.

His drow claw thrust at her. A wavering rake of the air rebounded off her sun-emblazoned defense.

The drow sneered, stretching more than elvishly possible. Teeth melded into a silent roar. Rather than charging, Evets launched over her and latched upon the balcony pillar. The shrouded