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

the overflow already obscuring most of the under arches. As they drew beneath, the sounds of a scuffle mixed with the rain.

Plunked cords strummed the same instant a spray of arrows embedded around their feet. They’d plunged into an ambush, but one hampered by the obscuring smoke. Arrows scattered about them from multiple directions overhead.

Liv glanced through the smoke. Seeing her friends hadn’t been struck, she leaned into her charge, pulling Ruein in her wake.

Under the stone arches, she could make out a skirmish above. The scrambling of feet echoed down as guards collided and struggled to right themselves. As well, there was the stray yelp as someone took a wound.

They emerged from the other side to an Elite group of six. Dark-orc falchions were at the ready. Holy shit. Haraden’s gambit was now apparent. These were the cleanup crew, here to finish any stragglers still alive after the archers.

Sadly for them, Liv’s team hadn’t been softened up.

She brought her shield around in acceptance of two falling blades. Liv swung her mace in low for a violent, sideways greeting. The side-strike crunched into a knee and the dark-orc crumpled.

One down.

Vaulting himself between, Ceer cross-connected. He deflected a falchion with his sandal and lobbed his wooden knee into the face of its wielder. His outstretched arm locked upon the wrist of another. He twisted, rounding the Elite’s arm to a resounding pop.

These guards were unprepared for what barreled out of the dark.

With a healer’s precision, Ruein’s glaive severed wrist tendons without severing sword hands. Already multiple falchions clanged upon cobblestones.

One of the broad-blades clipped past Liv’s Lightbringer armor, biting into her side. The cut was shallow but stung at her all the same.

Balling herself for an instant, the Lightbringer barreled outward with her shield. The move caught one dark-orc in his jaw. Lumbering back, he fell upon his compatriot behind him.

A stray arrow stabbed the ground between.

Liv rounded back to the gate overhead. The storm winds soaked through her armor-padding making it weighty. Her moves became sluggish.

Steady gusts had already diminished the obscuring clouds. Slung along the gate top—a squad of archers. Their bows caught upon their wrists or scattered on the street below.

Careening over them, bone wings spread wide, the shrouded angel worked daggers in a frenzied dance, taking care of the last bowmen.

What…the…fuck?

A spiked, black gauntlet flashed before Liv’s face. Fingers snapped as Ruein vied for attention. Her sister’s illusory face flashed disbelief at her.

This was not the time to lose focus.

Liv turned in time for the flash of a falchion. It swept at her just before the dark-orc wielding it face-planted at her feet.

Ceer’s fist held before the Lightbringer. His oaken grin ran tusk to tusk.

“Thanks. Thanks,” said Liv.

“Ceer have Ruein’s back. Ceer have Twigs’ back.” His thumb gestured to the guards upon the ground. “Ceer even has Elite back. World will say, Ceer has all backs.”

Liv panted, gauging the pile of guards on the ground. Most were bloodied. Ruein nodded an affirmation. None were dead.

An overturned wheelbarrow toppled onto its side as Twigs emerged. “Yes! We’re all good!”

The cry of a falling dark-orc snapped them back around. A last archer thudded to the cobblestones. They each raised their gaze to the dark angel poised above them.

Liv moved for the fallen archer.

“No!” A heartfelt urgency shot from the shroud above. “You’ve no time. This place is not forgiving.”

Liv squinted up at her.

The dark angel leaned, raising a dagger pommel to her chest. “There is more to this Realm than you can know. The sort of creature that tried to murder you would have no place for a Lightbringer’s truth. Flee Haraden.”

The dark-orc archer groaned.

“Now!”

They were still just midway to the city gates.

A black-leather hand gripped Liv’s. Her sister backed into her. Glancing over her shoulder, Ruein offered a knowing look. She was up to something.

26

Ruein was careful to gauge from the corner of her eye. The stone arch of the gate became clear as the fog dissipated. There, up on the top—that shrouded angel—she’d need that thing to clear Liv’s name. The cowled woman’s smoldering focus seemed only for her sister.

Good. Keep her distracted. I need to get closer.

Ruein meandered between the injured, making a pretense of checking the guards as she drew nearer without being obvious.

Bumping up behind Liv, she turned for a better view. They were a good ten yards out and her target another ten yards up.

Closer.

Locking eyes with her sister, Ruein backed toward the gate.

The shroud called from behind, “You don’t need to finish them. Leave them to me. Gather yourselves and get the hells out of the city.”

Beneath her cloak, Ruein withdrew from her component pouch. She subtly moved her hands, gesturing within. No one could see, save for her sister before her.

Liv looked back up. “You’re helping us? Why? What is—”

This was close enough. Close enough to be flanked by Ruein’s summoned undead.

Liv’s eyes flicked to Ruein’s spellcasting. With a lunge, her cleric sister grabbed ahold and whirled Ruein around. Liv thrust her back. “No. We’re not doing this.”

“What?” Ruein glared. Through clenched teeth, she said in a hushed voice, “That thing is right up there. We can take her. Clear your name.”

Liv shoved her back. “I could’ve stood my ground back in those council chambers. We could’ve held to the truth…or we could escape. Not both! You three made that decision. Now we’re stuck with it.”

Ruein glanced toward the gate. The shrouded figure arched her back. Her bony wings folded back in, their last vestiges wisped away like the black smoke curling from her eyes. She thrust an arm in the direction of the outer city walls, then bolted away.

What is happening here?

Liv hooked her hand into Ruein’s leathers and hauled her back to Ceer and Twigs.

Once together, they quickened their pace. With the raucous crash of lightning behind, they splashed along back alleys, racing to gain ground. Their strides grew less cautious.

The half-orc’s pace eased at the outlet of another thoroughfare. He paused, not for himself