Ruein: Fires of Haraden: Action/Adventure Necromancy Series (Books of Ruein Book 2) by G.O. Turner (best ereader for graphic novels txt) 📗

“Giffling,” Twigs corrected.

“Wait, I thought you were part plant, not bird.”

Twigs frowned. “Giffling, not griffen.”

“Mah, who giffs a grif? What I’m saying is, life in and outta the Realm is frosty enough as is. At least us gnomes can have some fun.” Leafar broadened arms at the others. “You three are ’bout as fun as a funeral.”

Lightbringer and necromancer eyed one another.

Enough.

Liv locked in on the gnome. “Mr. Fllyn, I can understand a hesitancy in taking in sojourners who wander out of the wild. Yet, I’m unaware of a gnomish virtue in pig-headedness.”

Ruein unrolled the parchment. “Look, we have the invitation—”

“Well, why didn’t ya say so?” Hopping to the tabletop, Leafar snatched the parchment. Muttered under his breath, “Has the seal. Quillmanship so tight could’ve doubled as a stick up someone’s ass. Yeah.”

Whipping it to his side, Leafar looked up. “S’alright, it’s an invite from Haraden.”

Liv’s brow rose, glaring a slow nod. “Yes.”

“However…” Leafar returned to a stance in his chair. “Says here, that’s an invite for Vrimon. Last I checked, he was nowhere near as…well, comely.” He settled in, gazing at Ruein.

Ruein responded, “The Doctorate had reasons. Haraden will just have to make do with me instead.”

Leafar huffed. “So, you’re setting terms now? Can’t wait ta see how that’ll play out.”

Ruein pressed a black gauntleted finger to the tabletop. “I may not be who you were expecting. But, I can perform the task all the same. Or does Haraden not need someone to speak for their dead?”

Dropping into his seat, Leafar’s head peeked just above the table. He lazed back, talking to the rafters. “Just lead a caravan. Simple job, cargo in, cargo out. We’ll provide the carriage. It’s all you’ll need. No one ever mentions the other part.”

“Other part?” Ruein squinted.

“Smuggling.”

Liv crossed her plated arms. “At what point did any of us ask you to smuggle?”

“Oh, not in so many words, but—” Leafar regarded Twigs, then leaned against the table’s edge. “Here’s the rub. First, I’m just the donkey guiding the cart. This is a Nursk caravan. Next, where you’re looking to stick your heads is a place that isn’t taking to visitors. Nursk doesn’t want ya, and Haraden isn’t open neither. Oh, the invite may be legit. Don’t mean you other three are game to glom on.”

Ruein nodded. “So, you just need me.”

Please. Liv eye-rolled, clutching her sister’s arm. “We’re not rehashing that. We’re together. Haraden is getting the whole package.”

“You bet,” Twigs confirmed.

Ceer shrugged with outstretched hands. “Ceer bringing Ceer’s package.”

Leafar’s head dipped. “Which dumps your lot onta me. Right? So, just toss off any thought of luxury now. If’n you’re in this caravan, then you’ll work for your cover.”

Liv regarded him. “Cover?”

“Nursk is a harbor town. Mailish’s stock is turning out whales inta oil. Gotta hefty cask already loaded. Problem is, he’s not much to afford a guard for his haul. Too short on sons. Last several runs, caravaneers have taken to his stores, fending off the trail’s wilder life. They burn his oil to ward their own wares.”

“I see,” Liv considered, “they steal from him.”

“Not my business. I’m up front. What goes on in back is Nursk business.” Leafar slipped a bit of burp. “I just loath the stink of trench fires at night.”

Ruein turned to Liv. “So, that’s our cover? Guard an oil wagon.”

Leafar ran a hand over his sideburns. “Up to you. I’ve a nice warm carriage up front. Those three wanna attach themselves, it’s gonna be in the caboose.”

Ruein leaned in. “We…are fine with the back.”

“Then there you are,” said Leafar.

Less than ideal, but it’ll get us where we need to go. Not to mention, we can do some good for a whaler family. Liv nodded. “It’s settled. When do we head out?”

Leafar took a swig from his mug and slumped back into his seat. “Well, just so happens the town was waiting on ole Mr. Fllyn. It’s normally a four-day trek with the wind at our back. Judging what blew you in, I’m banking on five this go. Now that I’ve got my necromancer…we roll out in the morn.”

“About damned time.” Liv looked to Ceer and Twigs. “Ruein and I will tend to the horses.”

Leafar nodded. “Good. You’ll be leaving those here.”

“And why’s that?”

“Unless your druid’s got some mystical horsey-house in his knapsack?” Leafar checked Twigs who shook a no back. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. The tundra’s too rough. Beasts like yours weren’t made for it. Besides, you’ll be on a wagon anyhow. Nursk’ll provide the rest.”

This town could barely provide for their own. Now, they were to leave Sage and Loress? Liv overestimated a payment to ensure their care. No telling how long they might be.

They rose from the table. Leafar pulled back his jacket to stow his tankard, and Liv caught a glint of gold within. It had a twisting filigree and diamond cap. A pin similar to the one bestowed by Shegar Negrath.

A hallmark of Haraden, of course.

The gnome helped himself to the remaining dregs of stew. Finding a stick, he fished out half a haddock.

“Mr. Fllyn?” Liv mounted her shield to her back flange. “You weren’t the first to warn us Haraden is hard on visitors. How hard?”

Leafar looked them over and settled in on Liv’s pendant. “Pray on that sunny block of wood you don’t find out. The last uninvited what stuck their heads in had no say in where they ended up.”

With a shove, he skewered the fish.

10

After five nights of plowing tundra, the arid chill was having its way with Ruein. Never a pain, yet the effect on her joints was too telling. While the necromancy of a “gentle repose” preserved her as always, it did not negate the brittle crunch of frozen limbs.

Most others played at having a dragon’s breath through the steam of warm, moist lungs. No such fog escaped her lips. She maintained the hat’s illusion of healthiness but had no disguise for the rest. Ruein wasn’t about to endanger the