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

Liv withdrew her family mace.

Their weapons, now wielded, faded to the same ghostly outlines only they could see.

Ruein checked Ceer. He didn’t seem as intent upon landing blows as he was in marshaling his deflection expertise. The half-orc feigned and blocked more than struck.

Smart monk. He was buying time. As artful as his dance against the squad was, they were still maneuvering him. He could only hold on for so long.

Upon the portal steps behind him, an innocuous but visible Twigs fanned his staff across the ground. The memory of Ruein’s mangled morning refreshed with a cracking of earth. Tufts of powdered dirt blew up as spikes emerged from the packed ground. The wide field of thorny vines scritched and clawed as they crept over the arch steps.

Then Twigs compounded the threat. Dashing his oil jar amidst the field, it sprayed and spread over the vines. His little voice cracked out, “Oh giving roots, your gift is harsh and I am grateful, but this time I’ll need your forgiveness as well.”

Farther back in the Apex, the squad they’d passed in the upper halls was already double-timing the antechamber toward them.

Ruein and Liv made for Ceer’s melee, as Twigs struck a twig of his own. It sparked, igniting the oiled field of thorns.

Ceer, backed into a garrison corner, became all deflection. The slash of falchions and prod of halberds were a torrent before him. With no more room to maneuver, the strike came in low. A halberd hook found his leg. Its yank landed him upon his back.

Dark-orc falchion-wielders reared for a double-handed finish. The fall of their blades caught with a clang against mace and glaive.

Entering into the fray, both Lightbringer and necromancer materialized before them.

Ruein thrust back as much with her glaive parry as her fear aura. She could damn well salvage this mess still. Yet, a prickle snaked up Ruein’s spine. This wasn’t truly helping. Liv had to get clear of this place. Distance, more than fighting, that was their best chance.

Her sister’s head was no place for a pike.

Liv bashed an Elite’s weapon-hand, crushing gauntlet and bone. Her shield held aloft over the half-orc provided what he needed to regain his feet.

An incensed crowd of dark-orcs gathered before the rising fire at the arch. Twigs called from behind, “The spikes will only last until the flames consume them. We gotta get the flock out of here!”

Toward the back of their fight, a halberded Elite turned and regarded the gnome. Twigs jolted back, stunned at the loss of his unseen comfort. Yet, rather than going after their little druid, the dark-orc bolted for the gate room.

Liv stared at the gnome, directing her shield for him to pursue.

He offered a shrug. With arms held wide, he glared back.

Midway to the gate room, a bolt pierced the dark-orc’s calf. The feathered shaft arrived from above. The Elite tumbled over, the skewer gripped in the meat of his leg.

Where’d that— No time. Ruein would thank the dark later.

Now was for pressing advantages. No longer on the defensive, Ceer laid into them. Marshaled between Ruein and Liv, they provided all the armor needed. Ceer waded in, disarming and stunning through their ranks.

A whirl of elbows, knees, fists, and feet. With each landed blow, his tusky grin grew. Swept up in his reveries, Ceer harkened, “Haraden, come and see…there’s none greater than—”

Shunk.

Ruein knew the sound of metal through bone. It was one of Rue’s last fleeting memories.

She grabbed onto the Elite upon Ceer. The soldier’s dagger popped and carved against the half-orc’s shoulder joint as she ripped him away. Red poured from Ceer’s shoulder.

This Elite was already off-kilter, fighting to stay on his feet. It wouldn’t take much. Draconic came fast as her hand limned in red. The crimson aura bit into the dark-orc, leeching away the last dregs keeping him up.

His hardiness surged into Ruein, bolstering her. Primal lifeforce thronged through her, yet panged at the door of her soul.

After Ceer and her sister struck their final blows, rendering the last Elite prone, Liv rounded on Ruein. “Did you?”

“No. He’ll live. We need to get out before—”

A dirge of heavy iron crashed. The garrison portcullis slammed down. Ruein eyed the red trail leading to the gate room, its door already closed. No doubt locked.

The way was shut.

Past the spiked flames, the contingent of Elite was building.

No. This is not how it’s… I’m not having it. No.

Stepping back from the gate, Ruein scanned the walls. This was a garrison. There had to be another—There! Archer stairs leading to the wall top.

“Move! Make for the parapet walk.” Ruein muscled against Ceer, engaging them all to charge for the climb.

Scrambling to the open stair top, the garrison’s sky cover fell away. The chilled splash of Haraden’s storms greeted them. The stone walkways were slick with rain. Periodic azure flashes cascaded over the Apex high above.

Ruein glimpsed over the edge and flashed back to her crippling morning. It was a good ten-yard drop to the street below.

Her scan of the wet cityscape settled on the back corner of the garrison wall. The nearest roof was also a good ten yards out. Of course it was. The last thing any garrison would want is a distance that could be covered in a jump.

Still, their narrow position was defensible… But not against an entire army. She needed a rope, something to lower Liv and the others.

A splash from the court below snagged her attention.

“Yes!” Twigs pumped his arm. “Was hoping they’d use water to put out the fire. They’d been better off allowing the flames to consume the vines. Now they have to figure out how to get past the spikes.”

Liv leaned over the outer side. “Great. Now, all we need is to figure out our way down.”

Twigs reached up to her. “Here, give me a look-see.”

Liv propped him up on the rampart, holding her shield over him for rain cover.

What’re our options? Ruein