Ruein: Fires of Haraden: Action/Adventure Necromancy Series (Books of Ruein Book 2) Read online

  Empty nights lingered with the knowledge of what was here in Karris City.

  Urges build into pressure. And pressure needs venting.

  By week’s end, the children would be under her care. In the nonce, it was only two days to Karris and two days back.

  The Doctorate were supplying undead to the local refiners. Disposable labor to work their hazardous conditions. Ruein would show them.

  She surveyed the refinery chamber, looking over the number of ambling dead. On the far side, the half-rotted face of a hill giant went about tireless labors. Scorched hides covered its absent modesty. The behemoth poured molten slag into a sluice, which channeled over to the other baser zombies. The glowing slurry flowed through channels for which these dead husks performed their tasks. Rhythmic hammers sledged off the impurities, creating the cacophony of steel on iron.

  Without a living soul anywhere, Ruein could do what she came to do. There would be no pity, remorse, or any call in revealing she was ever there.

  She rose. Her tattered red cloak shrouded around her as she lifted her glaive. It was a satisfying weapon, a pointed meat cleaver affixed to a pole that would provide both reach and throttle through its haft.

  Eager for her dirty work, she’d geared fittingly. The drow-crafted armor was burnished ornately in her skeletal motif. Wrought iron adorned each piece of her thick black leathers.

  She’d waited long enough.

  Molten drabs fell from the giant’s crucible. He took his emptied stone pot away to refill in the furnace room. Ruein sized up the first husk before her. The dead raised its hammer as she swung her glaive around toward its shoulder. Her swipe carved through with little resistance.

  The zombie’s hammer fell. The mallet glanced off its head, knocking it sideways. As both Ruein and the zombie wheeled, she brought her glaive in.

  Her blade inserted to its gut.

  Ruein carved upward, opening wide its torso. Desiccated organs dumped upon the grates.

  She extracted her weapon with a yank.

  Alabaster eyes stared blankly into hers.

  This. This is what I want.

  She spun, and her keen edge swept through. The dead’s head popped, lurching into the air. As it came down, Ruein’s free hand shot out to snag the abomination.

  Glancing past the rail over a bubbling vat below, Ruein released her grip. The head tumbled to a molten sploosh. What tissue and hair remained, blossomed into flames as it bobbed on the surface.

  Though Ruein hadn’t a need, she inhaled the satisfaction of that moment.

  Blackness welled from her core, cascading along her spine. Tendrils of wrath raced through her mind, then charged out her arms. She not only writhed in gleeful destruction—

  Ruein smiled.

  More. I want more.

  Her cloak flew wide as she dropped the four yards to the lower deck. Rising from a crouch, her glaive whipped bodily around. She circled through the legs of two newly alerted dead.

  They toppled, severed at the knees.

  Still not enough.

  Her wild, hungry eyes caught others already closing the distance. Their hammers redirected for her.

  Ruein continued to carve through the fallen at her feet. She shredded the ones beneath her, not bothering to finish so much as disable.

  She spun toward the closing three, taunting. “Come.”

  Farther back, double doors opened.

  Yes. The dead are mindless and stupid. Yet, they can still be attracted to things. Ruein’s carnage had drawn attention.

  Through the entry, a small mob of dead faces locked onto hers. Their instinct to kill reared in their eyes, jaws, and clumsy arms. They plodded forward.

  Oh, this is too much fun.

  She had no intention of being mobbed. Stuffing a hand into her component pouch, Ruein felt for a soft packet, that bit of folded waxed paper.

  Withdrawing the packet, she squeezed till the squid limb burst between her fingers. Wetness became arcane vapors as she embraced the draconic words. Ruein’s hand worked the gestures.

  The spell erupted from the floor beneath the husks.

  Shooting up, dozens upon dozens of tentacles undulated within the corpses’ midst. They lashed, latched, and squeezed. Long tendrils, born of the eternal dark, enveloped the dead crew. Corpses began to pop.

  Yet, where was the satisfaction?

  Ruein launched forward, carving into the edges of the writhing field. She severed sinew, caring not as her glaive sliced dead and tentacles alike. It didn’t matter. New tentacles erupted to fill the voids.

  Dancing around the outside, Ruein cut down their numbers. Those centered within the black morass succumbed, simply pulled apart or crushed to bursting.

  She scanned the mottled field of parts. Hatred seethed through her teeth as she sought out her next abomination.

  In answer, the floor of the refinery quaked. Rhythmic stomps foretold the giant’s return. Ruein rounded a corner and came up underneath the monstrosity. This chamber had been cleared, as intended. Now she just needed to take out one not-so-small thing.

  The dead giant took in the scene. Scattered bits of his smaller brethren littered the refinery floors. The black tentacle pool continued to lash and toss dismembered limbs.

  Ruein peered through the amber glow from the giant’s iron crucible, which highlighted his rotted half-face. Past the exposed portions of skull, clouded eyes fixed upon her. The thing understood. His cracked lips curled. Blackened teeth gnashed.

  Spotting a counter-weighted rope between them, Ruein dashed forward. With one arm she grabbed hold. With the other, her glaive severed the line.

  Iron gratings beneath her feet dropped away as she flew up.

  The counterweights must’ve been massive. Ruein hurtled toward the ceiling, leveling face-to-face with the giant. The momentum from such a yank heaving at her arm socket would’ve been agonizing to anyone else. Ruein knew no such pain.

  At the peak of her rise, she released the rope and hurled herself at the giant. Inverting her glaive downward, she punched through his collar joint. Her boots landed on the abomination’s shoulder. Heat from the crucible warmed her backside.

  The giant’s head reeled, its jaw opened wide.

  Ruein swung on the pole, rounding over and past the rear shoulder. She then hefted all of her weight into a descent. The glaive carved down his back. Upon catching hip bone, the weapon levered over.

  She tightened her grip, dislodging the weapon as she fell. Her drow boots clanked hard on the floor grates.

  This abomination was massive.

  Don’t give it a chance.

  Ruein whirled, building momentum through her swing. It intersected with the giant’s calf. The blade cut rotted meat but stopped mid-bone.

  The giant shifted. Looking down upon her. His shoulders heaved. The crucible rose as his arms lifted upward.

  Oh, crap.

  He was going to dump that on her.

  Ruein yanked at the glaive. It did not give.

  She pressed her boot against the giant’s leg and hauled back. Rather than release, she fell away from the glaive and landed in a pile of her own dismembered handiwork. No good. The weapon was stuck fast.

  Ruein’s hand scrambled through the pile of rot until her gauntlet caught hold of something wooden.

  Rising to her feet, she swung the heavy sledge around, focused upon her own embedded weapon.

  The sledgehammer slammed into the giant’s calf, not only penetrating meat but smacking the backside of her glaive blade. It finished its journey through the rest of the bone to erupt out the other side. Her blade flew across the room and rattled upon the floor. Ruein released the hammer and dove away.

  She tumbled through her roll, distancing herself as far she could just as the crucible began to pour.

  The hill giant’s leg gave way. The crucible heaved upward, relieving its contents upon the giant. Gouts of molten steam, embers, and flames erupted as the dead giant bathed in the iron lava. Fire raced up i
ts body, igniting what few hairs and hides he possessed.

  He crumpled to the ground, collapsing in upon himself. The fire began to consume the remains.

  Ruein continued to distance herself while watching the pyre grow. Her satisfaction rose with the flames. She heaved in the smell of burning hair and refinery fumes, embracing the malice which swirled within her soul.

  Most abominations had no soul, just empty vessels infesting her world. Karris City’s undead did serve a purpose though. Tonight, it was to satisfy her.

  This will tide me over…for now.

  She couldn’t stay. The flames would continue to grow. Ruein strode over to recover her glaive.

  From a distant chamber, she heard shouts. Someone had taken notice. The giant continued to burn. Bits and pieces fell away. They clumped with a hiss, commingling with molten iron. Wouldn’t be long before it would become an ashen, slagged fixture of the refinery floor.

  Ruein edged her way back, finding a quiet exit.

  It was a good start. There were still plenty of other Karris refiners for her to return for. She had her own crucible to carry…

  …and it was far from spent.

  2

  Where’s Rue?

  Even Lightbringer Liv Khorana wasn’t sure. Her sister-in-law had been gone far too many days.

  You’d damn well think she’d show for her own husband’s funeral.

  Seated in the front row, Liv dipped her head and made another check of their guests.

  She scanned the filled benches, probing for some hint of her. It wouldn’t be obvious. Aequen’s enchanted hat would provide her sister a disguise. She wasn’t likely to come as herself. That would raise too many questions for her…for all of them.

  The austere-white tent on their lighthouse peninsula held roughly fifty guests: noble houses, acquaintances, and respected colleagues. Those in-the-know had come to pay respects on the hardened ground. Wooden stools offered little in the way of comfort.

  It was good to see Anad and young Xam with a small Commercery staff. They seemed to have managed some benches of their own.

  An autumn sea breeze rustled at the tent’s flap, drifting it open. Liv glimpsed the everburning torches that marked her brother’s resting place outside.

  She cupped an oaken toy bear within her calloused hands. Her fingers roved over the carved sun symbols along its surface. The handiwork, a match for Liv’s own holy symbol, rested against her lap’s yellow and white vestments. This token, gifted by her father, had been intended to fill a brother’s absence.

  Liv was glad to be bookended by loved ones. Her father, Kaea, on one side, twins, Arim and Nayr, on the other. But the vacant seat on the children’s far side… Well, shit. What had she honestly expected? Kaea had resisted even setting it out.

  That was a battle he’d no chance of winning.

  High Cleric Tirrem was his humble self at the lectern. His remarks were gracious to her brother, Manu, as well to Aequen and Nanagan.

  Liv had already said her piece for those in attendance. It hadn’t been easy. Yet, her brother deserved to be shared before everyone. She’d hoped getting through this would diminish the ache that had taken residence inside her chest.

  Baylor’s balls. When was that going to happen, already?

  She dwelled, turning the bear in her hands. The emptiness within deepened. Seemed only right she should have such a hole. So much had been torn from her. No bandage could ever secure that level of mending.

  Moments seemed to stretch as she drifted in those depths. Liv was unsure how long she lingered before noticing the hush which fell over the tent.

  She looked up to the High Cleric bowing from the lectern. Liv’s eyes flicked right. Her Lightbringer father kneeled toward her. Looking around, the whole tent came to their feet and bowed in her direction.

  Her ache both heightened and sank.

  Ah, shit. This isn’t helping.

  Liv drew in a breath. Pocketing the bear beneath her vestments, she rose to stand with the group. Everyone righted. Kaea reached for her shoulder and drew her in.

  High Cleric Tirrem stepped from the lectern, signaling the others to commence mingling.

  A jostle caught Liv as Arim and Nayr brushed past. It lightened her heart to see the toddlers freed of these somber acts. They chased each other into the throng of minglers.

  Kaea tightened his hug, then extended her to arm’s length. His damp, flushed cheeks offered a grin. “You did well.”

  Liv closed her eyes. The weight of her head tipped forward.

  Her father lowered his to catch her eye. “Will you allow this old fool the remaining tasks?”

  Liv huffed. “All for you?”

  “We Lightbringers have many ways to ‘bring’. Leave me this.” Kaea rounded toward the attendees. His own Lightbringer vestments broadened with his raised arms. Their family’s tropical upbringing and sailor’s life came to the fore. It was that hearty spirit bolstered through faith that heightened their standing within their adopted hometown.

  He’d be her shield for as long as she required.

  Acknowledging their respects, Liv wended her way to a quiet corner to merely be apart and watch. Let them share what they knew about her brother. She would miss all the things they could never know. Their childhood of play amidst the wharves. How Liv would fend off dock girls. Heh, so many. Those memories were hers, and hers alone.

  Kaea worked the crowd, bolstering hearts, relieving their sadness, and shouldering the needs of the brokenhearted. This was his way of dealing with the pain, the loss of his son. Liv was sure that was not going to be her way.

  She needed something. Some…distraction.

  Manu’s friends were here. They were also aware of his necromantic wife. Did they inquire about her? Was she so taboo a topic that no one felt they could ask?

  Liv swept the crowd again.

  High Cleric Tirrem’s eyes locked upon Liv’s. Damn. He was a good man. It was just—her solitude wasn’t something he would ignore. The High Cleric closed the distance and paused before her.

  Liv drew a breath and found a smile for the cleric. “It was beautiful…your words.”

  “Ah. I was hoping some had reached you,” Tirrem said. “Seems all a bit scant, having only words to offer.”

  “We’ve all already given too much.”

  “If it’s any consolation, Talis has been returned to the vault.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Craftsmen will still need to restore its proper seat. That said, the city’s religious orders honor your surrendering of the Oathkeeper.”

  Liv winced. “It was never mine.”

  “You certainly were found worthy. It was no mistake that the light worked the Oathkeeper’s way to your hands.”

  “No.” The thought bit at Liv. “That was no light. That was orchestrated.” She turned from the High Cleric, searching the crowd.

  “Humph. I could see how you might think that. Yet, can you be so sure those were the only guiding hands?” Tirrem leaned in. “As well, dismissing the light which fell upon your sister?”

  Past mingling guests, their eyes met. The only scroungy person in attendance, a familiar ditchdigger, stood out from the nobles and clergy. From a plain masculine face, familiar vacant blue eyes stared back at Liv’s.

  What’d Tirrem say?

  “I…uh, sorry. I didn’t…” Liv’s brow furrowed. She couldn’t quite grasp—her sister was here. “Forgive me, Servitor. I just…”

  She moved past the High Cleric and waded into the crowd.

  He meant well. Tirrem was trying to reach out to her. He simply wasn’t what Liv needed at that moment.

  She willed herself through the mix. Liv was courteous enough to acknowledge those around her, well-wishers and the survivors of loss. Yet, she did not slow her pace until she broke through to the other side. Apparently, the guests had given the scruffy ditchdigger her own space.

  She gave Ruein the once-over. “Did you have to bring the shovel?”

  “It blen
ds better than a tall glaive,” answered Ruein.

  Liv pursed her lips. Her head wavered a bit before she turned and sidled up to her sister-in-law. With their backs to the canvas wall, they focused on the crowd.

  “Was beginning to think you weren’t coming. It’s been a score of days,” said Liv.

  “Five.”

  “Shit. Felt like more.”

  “Thought you’d appreciate not having me casting a pall over things.” Ruein tipped her head closer. “Necromancy…it has that tendency.”

  Liv side-eyed her. “There you go being all helpful. Did that extend to showing your appreciation to the wizard? He is a Daerun, you know.”

  “I did see him off. We parted ways after the Antillus Range. He opted for the long way around the city.”

  “Were his hands any better?”

  Ruein recentered on the crowd. “I can’t undo my inflictions. Best for the good Lord Tam to suss how he chooses to place them.”

  Damn straight. Lord Tam was as responsible for their loss as he was in correcting it. Though Liv wanted to pummel the red wizard, she couldn’t overlook how he’d redeemed himself. And at the cost of his friend Whiskers. Still, Vandraport was not his land of Thae. Better he takes his lessons home with him.

  Liv sighed. “Despite this…lie of appearances, I’m glad you’re here.”

  The twins darted out between the Sarrisons and Merwoods. Arim gave Nayr chase as they wiled ways between the collection of leggings and dresses. No one cast an ill eye. Rather, smiles followed their hijinks in and around.

  Though eased a bit, a concern popped into Liv’s head. “Please tell me you found the time to mop up the treeflet. I’m not about to have our little ones seeing that—”

  “Aequen’s home has been wiped anew. There’s no blood, no stains. I’ve disassembled the traps. They will not know,” Ruein reassured.

  “Hold up.” Liv waved for her attention. “That is your home now. Aequen left instructions with the Commercery. Anad passed the writs along to us. His treeflet was—”

  “—given to the Khorana family.”

  “And you are family. I can think of no better place for our little hobgoblins. When Arim and Nayr are with you, they stay at your home.” Liv turned back to the guests. “The Lord of Light and Truth smiled down upon you. I’ve faith he was the one who made it possible for you to hold your children again. Embrace that. Doesn’t matter what you think. You’re their mother. Kaea and I will keep them schooled most of the week. Days of rest are…with…you.”