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

any vithing good just standing here! How much longer could she remain away from the Apex before they’d notice her absence?

Then the metallic clatter as the portcullis rose, lifting her spirits with it.

Damned if they weren’t that good. Of course, divinity would find a way. They were going to make it out!

Tightening her crossbow strap to her side, the shroud turned for the city’s center and sprang to her feet. She dashed along the rooftop route she’d known so well, leaping and swinging the league’s journey back over it all.

I’d not wish the drow’s loathed goddess on anyone. But I’d damn well throw Scratch to that spider-retch if I could. Vithing goblin! He had a piece of me. The only way to track back to me and he had it. Like the note in that gobbler’s grimy hand led me to Evets.

Now they’re here.

She rounded a steeple and clambered up its tall spire. The shroud looked out over the garrison, past the wide avenue before it. Flashes of azure lightning lit what little movement remained of soldiers within. This was easier to manage with fewer eyes.

Gripping onto the spire’s crest, the shroud heaved her weight away from the garrison, then swung around to land her feet against it. Like a released bowstring, she shot out over the expanse between.

She curled her shoulders and unfurled the corrupted remnants of her former glory. While her wings never allowed her to fly, these skeletal leftovers still retained some glide. The shroud moved over the garrison, a rainy silhouette over a dark sky. She landed upon the craggy dirt of the volcano’s side. Its porous stones slipped and scritched under her boots.

This was her well-worn path up the mountainside.

They want me back. To…carve me up. What I didn’t know was why the Nazier haven’t already? Seemed like Evets cleared that up now.

They wanted it all. All of Haraden, and her body along with it. They’d wormed their way in and cared not to show their hand…just yet.

Summiting the caldera, the lava-light glared in her eyes. Waves of heat blasted away the rain-swept winds before her. Angry orange pools below beckoned for her to take that last leap. It would be a damnation of her choosing. Perhaps Evets’ spirit resided somewhere in there now. She could have some satisfaction, throttling him for all eternity in those depths.

She stepped to the edge.

Pebbles tumbled off from her boots, as she lifted her head to the rumbling skies above. The unerring crawl of the Apex citadel continued to round above her. Occasional bolts of blue arced their dance over its plating.

Closing her eyes, she leapt out into the warmth from below.

Dry heat washed over her, caressing every curve of her body. The sulfur was raw in her nose, nearly singeing her as she spread her arms wide in its embrace. The pull upon her wings rose with her. She opened her eyes and tipped into a steady spiral up. The shroud rode with the volcano’s heat, soaring within its current, and hugged along the citadel’s underside.

She never was an angel. Whatever the blessed hells that was. The Nazier had another word for her. So what. Why should she give a shit? None of that was going to change her lot in life. She was just some beautiful mongrel for others to use.

Catching unseen eddies, the shroud soared past the plated, lower level, spiraling within the flow. She gazed higher, to their bathhouse overlook. The faces of her concerned sisters and brothers leaned out toward the city’s edge. Of course, they were seeking a glimpse of the distant gate fight. She would too in their place.

Her gloved hand grabbed a rising post as she kited past them to the upper bronzed edifice. This way she would avoid being seen.

The only way left was through her darkened bedchamber. The latch she’d installed on the outside worked as well as the one within. She clicked it open, withdrew her wings, and settled onto the window ledge.

Thunder rolled over her shoulder as she looked back to where she’d come from. It was too far past the city walls with all the rain for her to see. Perhaps if the flaming azers had pursued them beyond, their distant flickers would appear. Didn’t seem like they’d given chase.

She huffed, allowing her head to sag.

Now all the Lightbringer needs—all Liv needed do was find a place to hole up. Somewhere far from here, until she could find a way to clear her name. She pulled Scratch’s scrap paper from her banded leathers. It was a note of entry, services rendered, and an accounting of his platinum reward. Yet the undercommon wording in their gratitude was phrased in the plural.

How many more had made it in?

She’d only ever seen the Nazier in the raw once, many years ago. Yet, their thralls…their bladed thralls still slithered in her mind. Explained much.

Pulling her cowl off, she extricated herself from that soaked, black shroud. The scent of sweat and leather was nothing new to this place. Better to dry it over the furnace flue, draped in a discrete towel.

She settled into a seated lump before her mirror. Her hollow, sad eyes stared back, framed in pixied, dark locks.

This hushed, dark space hadn’t been a place of relief since Scratch came. Anxiety grew, entwining her gut, ever-yearning to meet with the needles of her quiet thoughts. She couldn’t sit still.

She couldn’t hide her face…not like the Nazier.

As easy as flexing wings, decades of adjusting had led to mastery. Her shoulders expanded with a deeply drawn breath. Her hips descended, breasts rose and then receded, flattening with an exhalation. Focused in on those pearlescent almond eyes, every detail mattered. Even the lips thinned and jaw squared, ever so slightly.

It still wasn’t going to help.

Whether as a man or a woman, it didn’t change the simple truth—this was still Tolrah’s face and that wasn’t changing. Unlike the shapeshifting Nazier, he could only shift his sex. And they knew he was here. When