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

Tolrah drew a hand across his arm. He squeezed tight, holding in his shudder.

Without an escape or a place to hide, all that remained was to take action. His gaze drifted to the polished floor. Azure bolts flickered outside the window. Their flashes played with the shadows at his feet, rumbling through the walls and stone tiles.

Find them. Hunt them down. If they value all that you are, then use that to get to them. Tolrah grasped at the shapes flickering across his floor, those fleeting moments of illumination. Like the stretched-out line of a fluted ear…

Council Neelyam.

How long had she been with Evets? And now her mate was gone. No doubt in her loss she’ll have need. A caring shoulder for counsel and consolation. Though it had been a while, Tolrah was all too familiar with the councilwoman. She could lead his daggers where they needed pointing.

Maybe on his next damned hunt, he’d actually kill one—instead of making things so much worse.

A smirk trembled across his face as he sat up. Turning to the mirror, his blood turned to ice.

The hands caught his attention first. He couldn’t feel them. But they were there, resting on his reflection’s shoulders. The manicured fingers were clean, extending from cuffed sleeves. His bed’s banister showed through, as if a veil instead of that white-strapped tunic. The slashed neck, which the poor soul’s head rested upon, appeared far from whole.

Ethereal tears welled from Tender Peridoc’s gaze.

He had come again. Not that the tender had ever left him. He was always there…just out of the corner of Tolrah’s eye. Quiet moments were never alone, and hauntings were never farther than his own skin.

The quiet thoughts etched down through his shoulders, prickling their way into the deep ache just under his heart. The festering pitch of his stomach curled over as the two met within his core.

Tolrah turned from the nightmarish reflection.

He doubled over. Blood coursing through his arms, he clutched and squeezed his own head. There was no escape. No undoing what he…what they had done. His eyes burned, seething from a pit of despair. Black plumes poured out, rising in place of undeserving tears.

29

When accepting “His” light and truth into your life, one should expect it’s going to come with a bit of heat.

Kaea was arms-deep into the lighthouse’s gearworks. The flue’s radiance streamed sweat down his straining muscles. The crank had slipped its gear once again. Kaea’s teeth gritted as his bit of cloth-wrapped steel levered back. He pried within at the point of trouble.

Night settled over choppy seas. Any vessels out there would be dependent on him.

Working the length of metal, Kaea jarred and throttled until it gave the definitive clink he was listening for. He withdrew to wipe his drenched brow. Releasing an exhausted breath, Kaea’s weary arm landed upon the lever.

It was a solid day’s work. Maintaining this lighthouse was his labor of love. The old Lightbringer embraced the pride of his station.

His friend Shegar had been away more than present. He’d never expect more than that from such a dragon. Beings as he had much to attend. Still, that very morning he’d returned. Time was spent regaling adventures gone by. Kaea’s dalliance down memory’s corridors brought as much joy as heartache. Mostly from those in his past he’d not see again.

Shegar’s eyes mirrored Kaea’s sorrow. No doubt, his was a deeper understanding, given a dragon’s extent. Their friendship was not long for this world. Humans had such shortcomings.

Before parting for other duties, Shegar refreshed his wards upon Arim and Nayr. Better to shield both than allow a vulnerability of one over the other.

No damnable goddess of death, or undeath for that matter, was going to approach his grandbabies without an understanding. Claims upon these children were not going to go unchallenged.

His arm required only a slight lever tug for the flue to ratchet open.

The furnace’s inner light rushed the unstuck grate. Kaea raised his chin, following to the tower’s pinnacle.

He popped the last hatch.

Brilliance swept across the room, shining out across the ocean’s expanse. Vandraport’s beacon of safe harbor shown to the horizon’s drop.

“There… That’ll do.” Kaea leaned against a pillar. His eyes scanned the dark waters out there, not chancing the lighthouse’s swiveling mirror behind.

This was always his life. A light for others. To lead the way out of the dark. All that he was… Every drop of blood shed was intent on making the world a little brighter. When his own light became stuck, he’d found a reliance upon sweat and muscle an answer for his release.

Satisfied, Kaea descended, closing the hatch behind.

Cramped steps spiraled past the furnace. His calloused hands ran along the inner stones. Their warmth comforted him. Descending farther, Kaea stepped into their chapel.

The stained-glass mural just overhead sprayed the room in a kaleidoscope of divinity. The furnace blazed above, bathing the sanctuary below. Kaea had a special appreciation of the low ceiling’s beauty. Despite his lord’s loftiness, this felt more the sort of closeness to where one should be.

His eyes moved over the sun symbols to the vestments’ shelves and weapon racks. He settled upon his daughter’s emptied armor retainer. She’d fully taken his place now. As it should be. Liv would be that light now, in a world where he was well past his use.

Of course, that didn’t mean Kaea was decrepit. Hells bells, he was in better shape than Shegar’s valet. Poor Caleb could barely keep his eyes open most times of the day.

That man’s role was surely something other than a guardian. Of that, Kaea was certain. Some cagey dragon contingency for that which he could not foresee.

I wonder what’s up his shiny sleeve.

Again. He’d faith.

A child’s cry pierced at Kaea. They were all asleep…next deck.

Kaea stormed for the hatch. One hand lowered for the door while the other clasped his sun symbol. He flung the hatch…

…and held the talisman before them.

Moonlight softly bathed their sleeping quarters. Old Caleb remained undisturbed