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

Ceer sniffed. “Maybe later.”

Liv regarded Leafar. “And you said there was a third?”

“A sorcerer.” Leafar hung his head. “But after that one, it was determined the gift was too disruptive to the whole. So, that was the end of the experiment…and the sorcerer.”

Tightening his gaze upon the azer below, Ceer’s voice lowered. “Being of metal and fire…how does one end that?”

“You came through it. Lock an azer out in the Wandering White and even their flames cannot hold forever.”

Ruein scanned the room and its various denizens. The marvel of these flaming beings and their constructions. It just seemed so… “If Haraden has such an all-powerful wizard, why have need of me?”

Leafar dropped onto a stone bench and leaned back. “Oh, Monastas passed away. Died over ten years ago. They haven’t anything in the way of master practitioners now. At least, nothing beyond casters of cantrips and charms.”

“Then who killed Monastas?” Liv asked.

“Time.” Leafar crossed his arms. “Monastas’ final years were golden ones. Yet he could not magic away old age. His passing was not by treachery, I can assure.”

From the council table, those gathered rolled up their tins and handed them off to the court pages. The disparate races gathered before their seats and looked to their gnomish guide.

They’d spoken only undercommon thus far. Now was no different. The drow councilman turned a slender ear their way. “What is this, Leafar?”

The female drow combed dark fingers through white hair as she settled into her seat. She played with the Haraden bangle at her wrist, cocking her red eyes at them. “Last time you brought in marauders? And now…”

Let’s see how they respond to their own tongue. Ruein marched to the room’s center. “You asked for a necromancer. I answered.” She flourished open her cloak for all to see the skeletal motif of her tradition. Her arm swung forward, settling the headbox upon their table. Despite their surprise, Ruein was confident her illusion had not lapsed.

The duergar male to Ruein’s left shot to his feet, shock scrawled upon his face. “You wear the armor of a—”

“A fake. It must be. Some…spoon–eared play at…” Drawing herself up, the drow councilwoman composed herself. She made her way around the table for a closer look. Probing eyes constricted only to widen as the distance closed.

Ruein maintained her stance, well aware of what to expect.

The councilwoman’s jaw lowered.

“How?” asked her male counterpart. “How does a surfacer wear our people’s armor?”

Ruein countered with a smile. “How do any of your kind get what they want? Some things you just got to want badly enough. You may call me Ruein.”

“Call you?” The drow councilwoman leaned in, daring Ruein’s face. “Interloper seems more to the point.”

From the table’s opposing end, a svirfneblin councilman shoved his arms to his sides. “Ho, we don’t care so much for infringers. The invite was for Vrimon. You are not him.” A snap of his fingers alerted the dark-orcs.

Elite faces centered upon Ruein. Hands reached for hilts. Spears tipped slightly.

Leafar had forewarned.

Ruein’s head dipped as she regarded the svirfneblin councilman. “You should have a care.” Surveying the table, she settled in on the drowess before her. “The Doctorate tasked me in his place. Do you need a necromancer or not?”

A thin dusky-haired human woman interjected. “The Doctorate is it?”

“Answers much,” said the svirfneblin.

Ruein gauged Leafar. The gnome’s eyes wandered around the Elite as his feet began to backpedal.

“Ruein?” Easing up behind her, Liv whispered, “Why is this turning sour?”

Her attention on the councilmembers, Ruein replied in common, “Formalities of their letter.”

“Oh, surfacer,” said in common, then the drow councilman slid back into undercommon and his chair. “Vrimon reviles the Doctorate. Nemesis we say.”

Ambient orange flickered from the rise above. The azer removed his goggles. Embers for irises locked in on Ruein. The rotund azer stepped around for a better view.

Whirling to the other councilmembers, the drowess called out, “Leafar’s marauders never made it this far. Appears our outlanders are trying a new ploy.”

Elite spears lowered into position. The sheen of blades pulled from sheaths sang out.

The drow councilman planted fists upon the table. “Schemes or no, this is Haraden.” He leaned in. “And this shall not stand.”

Liv swung her back to meet Ruein’s. Her sister’s hand moved for her belt. “Shit!” That’s right, sis. We’re not armed.

She cocked her head to Ruein. “Well, if your damned invite won’t fly…”

Rounding to Ruein’s front, Liv shoved her back. This brusque move triggered the guard’s spear-tip to converge on their position. Only breaths remained from the Lightbringer. The dark-orc before her jabbed at her sun medallion.

Ruein reached for her spell pouch. Dark gods. Whatever Liv was going to do, they’d do it together.

Her voice rising, Liv called out, “How about this one?” She flared open her coat and Ruein caught the glint of the metallic pin stuck inside.

Liv rallied at each of them, ensuring she was heard, “I don’t know what all this under-sniping is. But I can damn well share my patron’s disappointment if I have to…fuck you all up.”

A gurgle not unlike that of a stomach churn resounded from below. Ruein chanced to glance down. Through the fogged quartz floor, the larger azer heaved himself from the lava pool. Heated eyes glared back up at her.

The human councilman jabbed a finger at Liv. “A friend of Haraden.”

“So few,” added the svirfneblin.

The drow councilman gripped the table edge. “Name your patron, cleric.”

“Oh, I don’t think you’ll want to suffer his…” Liv smiled. “Negrath.”

Scaling a ladder, the bare-chested azer emerged from an apse. Enveloping his midsection with a bronzed sheet, he strode between the spears. Dripping lava sizzled in the wake of his steps upon the stone floors. Uninterested in Ruein, he leaned in toward the Lightbringer. His hardened finger flicked off Liv’s pin to a ping throughout the chamber.

The azer’s stern expression broke as cavalier. He beamed a grin toward the council and launched into deep ignan.

The drow councilwoman straightened and nodded to the other councils