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

That’s one single-minded fucker. Liv reared to plunge back in.

Stretching higher, Evets’ hand gripped the assassin’s boot. The dark woman hauled herself higher on the pillar, head hunched as she gasped.

That bloodied undead shroud was getting winded!

Why, to gods, does none of this make sense?

Righteousness vaulted the Lightbringer through her swing. It went wide and the statue bashed the column instead. Stone shards and blocks powdered the Lightbringer. A massive chunk, gouged from the column, tumbled onto the tiles.

Liv checked her makeshift cudgel.

Undamaged, and artful as ever. Fucking yeah, Haraden steel!

Evets shouted down, “Common cow!”

Lifting knee to chest, his leg fired and stretched into a gray, creviced, hindlimb. It struck like a fist to her face. Knocked off her feet, Liv bowled across the floor. The statue splayed off somewhere else.

A different heavy blow resounded behind her. The chamber door rocked on its hinges, holding fast against the desk barricade.

Oh great, help.

Liv got to her feet. The two unholy fucks were still clawing at one another upon the balcony pillar. The shroud was nearly at the pinnacle.

The Lightbringer eyed the column’s gaping crevice. Wouldn’t need a mace for that.

Behind, the chamber’s frame cracked. The door burst, toppling the desk.

Crouching, Liv presented her shield and barreled into the base of the pillar. Channeling all her weight, she piledrove her shouldered shield-strike.

A flash of azure hit with a thunderous crack.

Liv couldn’t distinguish the sound as lightning or the break of marble. It all roared in her head.

Crashing through to the balcony floor, Liv rolled over. She glared up at the looming column as it careened toward her. The drow councilman tightened his hold.

As if a tree cut from its trunk, the lower timber collided with the rail above. The massive stone levered just over Liv’s head. Then…it tipped.

The column fell over the side, dark-elf gripping for the ride.

She scanned the upper spire plates. Nothing else moved.

Catching her breath, Liv slumped under the cooling rain upon her face. Thankful for the reprieve, she rested a beat, then reopened her eyes to the study’s door.

They’d all just made it. Ceer, Twigs, and Ruein were there, crowding through the door. Just behind, dark-orc Elites and the sinking jaw of the drowess councilwoman, Evets’ mate.

Shit. Did I just…

23

Evidently, being undead didn’t exempt Ruein from shock. Not this sort, at least. She hadn’t fully recovered from the morning’s injuries, but surely her mind and vision were still clear, right? Did Liv just hurl the councilman over the balcony?

No. There had to be more.

Gathering her wits, Ruein dashed to her sister’s side. Her hands slapped against the rail as she leaned out.

Liv hoisted herself up to rest alongside.

Ruein focused in on the shrinking column and its drow rider. He continued to fall until with a smack, he hit the volcanic pool far below. The dark-elf flailed, wreathed in flames, until the column sank over him into the lava’s depths.

“Oops.” Ceer appeared beside her.

Twigs squeezed through the rails for his own look. He righted himself and glared at Liv. “Um… I don’t think that’s the kind of bath most drow go for.”

Ruein gaped. The dark pit within her gut deepened. There was nothing to be done for their host now.

She scanned the heights of the Apex. Her shades of gray revealing only its empty plated sides. “I saw the shrouded assassin. It’s what drew us up. Where is she?”

“Yeah…” Liv gasped, catching her breath, “I was just getting to that.”

Neelyam’s shriek pierced them from the study doorway. The councilwoman’s hands fell from her cheeks and she pointed at Liv. “Murderer!”

Dark-orcs charged the door. Weapons in hand, four of the Elite closed in on the balcony.

No, no, no, no…

Ruein, Ceer, and Twigs lowered their stances. Her eyes danced over the Elite. Not too many, but… They were in a tower of a heavily fortified sky citadel. There were hundreds, if not a thousand, trained soldiers ready to be called.

“Wait.” Liv’s hand rose.

The rear guards’ halberds pivoted over their forward compatriot’s shoulders, while the closer ones brandished falchions. These were maneuvers by soldiers trained for close quarters. Lips curled, teeth bared. Yet, Ruein gauged just past that. Orc-sweat hinted at what crept below their skin. Her necromancy still had its sway.

Liv gripped her sister’s shoulder. “Haraden’s slayer was here. She came to assassinate the councilman.”

“And now you confess to succeeding where this other…did not?” growled Neelyam.

Liv shook her head. “There’s more to it. The assassin reeked of evil, but then, so too did Councilman Evets.”

Neelyam stomped. “Surfacers would say that of any drow. How disappointing for Haraden to be betrayed by the great Shegar Negrath.”

Oh, sis, even your faith has its flaws. They were never going to talk their way out of this. Ruein’s silent promise loomed over the room. There would only be one way to keep it. From the corner of her eye, Twigs slipped closer, and they shared a readied look.

The drowess’ finger thrust forward. “Seize h—!”

Gnomish fingers flicked out arcanity as the chamber’s ambiance fell away. No Elite boot steps or rustle of armor, no angry drowess’ shouts would extend beyond the study.

All was silent.

The dark-orcs, teetering on courage’s edge, hesitated as Ruein surged an unseen aura of dread. Their moment of doubt was more than enough.

Vaulting into a whirl, Ceer’s fist connected to the chest of an Elite. His falchion and shield, clattered soundlessly upon the floor. In a blur, Ceer’s other fist sideswiped the next falchion-wielder’s jaw.

Despite not hearing her own draconic, Ruein’s well-versed spell ignited from her outstretched hand. The coruscating beam smacked the farthermost dark-orc. His Elite beefiness dwindled as strength bled away.

Liv rounded upon Ruein, the heat in her glare sufficing for what her soundless lips had to say. Things were not taking a good turn.

Twigs pumped his little legs, skirting the fray in favor of the study door. The drow councilwoman turned to exit only to balk at the gnome’s gesturing fingers.

Neelyam wasn’t going anywhere.

A falchioned dark-orc swung. The flat of his blade met with