Ruein: Fires of Haraden: Action/Adventure Necromancy Series (Books of Ruein Book 2) by G.O. Turner (interesting books to read in english txt) 📕

“Well, yes. You’re onto something there.” Leafar held up a finger. “But I can assure, they’re as alive as you or I. You see, azer bodies—while masterfully crafted—are still given life. With every lifespan, they build up a level of heat. That heat reaches a point where it can no longer be contained. When that time comes, they achieve their greatest artistry.”

Continuing onward, Leafar spun around Twigs and gestured to another passing azer. “Each must construct the next generation. They pour their craftiness, metallurgy, and magic into new forms. When the construct is readied, they release that excessive heat into the new lifeform. It is how generations grow. The original azer still lives while giving life to the next. That is until their embers fade with old age and they pass.”

Liv flicked a look over her shoulder. “So, they literally make their children?”

Leafar hopped a few paces forward. “Azers don’t have children. They give life to full-grown azers. Much of the first’s experiences are passed through to the next. Their collective builds this way to a greater future. No one azer is more important than the others. Always searching, seeking for improvement of the whole.”

Interesting. Even these outsiders do not live forever.

Their path curved around the outside of the building. Cascading windows of daylight streamed along their path. Ruein hadn’t noticed azers back in the city—they’d be hard to miss—however, here they commingled with others of the Realm.

Ruein’s brow furrowed at a small, ashen-skinned svirfneblin taking pride in demonstrating various implements to their flaming benefactors. Not the usual dower nature for such a deep gnome. Drow males bowed not out of reverence but with…

Was that a smile? And not even a sinister one.

Ruein called up to Leafar, “That’s something I’m not used to seeing. Underfolk being…gracious?”

“Without the yoke of Lolth or the matrons lording over them, they’ve had decades to adapt. Even the drone males have come to see how much better their lives are here.”

Passing one such male, Leafar waved a sign of salutation. The dark-skinned elf courteously nodded in response. “The drow you’ve seen thus far are the new generation. They were not brought up in the ways of the underdark. The first, that lost generation, they are still here. But they’ve been granted no influence. Merely an existence to live out their remaining days. The drow here were raised in the Haraden way.”

“No shit.” Liv glared at the drow, mouth agape. “You mean to tell me these aren’t a bunch of backstabbing, double-dealing, treacherous drow?”

“Ha! Oh, they’re still drow. You can’t breed out that sort of ambition. They have come to understand that what’s best for Haraden seems to be best for them as well,” answered Leafar.

Departing window-lit halls, their azer guide pivoted to the right and moved deeper within. Approaching double doors, the azer held his bronzed arms out and shoved.

Sulfur strengthened in Ruein’s nostrils. Such stench. Mayhaps her sister would be regretting the trek now?

The council chamber was a huge, well-lit rotunda. A series of everburning sconces glowed from each apse. This was an active, populated hall. Various peoples moved about and exited as they entered. They held thin metallic sheets, which Ruein spied as documents. Governing the room’s center, a half-moon formal table resided with eight seats along the outer crescent.

Overlooking from an elevated rise, stood a table populated by several duergar and svirfneblin. However, what stood out, was the flaming azer that towered over them. His beard blended around to his eyebrows, wavering back behind the wisps that wreathed his metal scalp. Steel goggles stared across the table scattered about with tin plans. His rotund stout body dwarfed the little-folk vying to maintain their table view. He leaned, planting fists upon their work. Various gadgets sprawled across the bulk of their plans.

Returning to the council, Ruein noted their pairing. These were not malevolent lords of the deep. No. There were two representing each race. Commingling with each other here were a svirfneblin, a drow, a duergar, and a human couple. One male, one female. So lost were they in whatever they were discussing, the council did not even acknowledge their guest’s arrival.

Leafar shuffled them off to an apse, while their azer escort approached the council. Intent upon his interactions, Ruein caught luminance below as he crossed the central floor. The sconces were not the only light. Under his metal feet, the floor transitioned to a hazy, crystal surface. She stepped forward and peered down.

The rotunda’s center was hallmarked by a transparent mosaic. Some quartz perhaps? Beneath, the luminance of a deep pool of magma against cindered stone. Luxuriating in the middle, another large azer. Like the one up on the riser, this one was even taller than Ceer. Ruein resolved, it was more of a guess, since he was only half-apparent above the lava. The azer was without a fiery beard; instead, small licks of flame bloomed from his brows. Extending flames fell back from a top knot into metallic links to form a ponytail.

Twigs gaped at the man-sized azer on the rise. “Shut the furnace door, is that the king of the azers?”

Leafar smiled back at them. “You’d be mistaken about that as much as if you thought they were fire dwarves. Collectives don’t have kings. No one is greater than the whole. That said, these particular azers are another of Monastas’ gifts…and his greatest failure.”

Ruein stepped back. “How so?”

“Monastas spent his golden years helping the azers to improve themselves. This particular gift, he felt would bring them to a new pinnacle. Working alongside, he helped the azers to craft three larger forms. They gave rise to these more heightened versions. Each was specialized. The skilled one there on the rise, that is Adum the tinker. His talents have aided in elevating much of the Realm’s gearwork. Just below that is Brun, an azer crafted for his creative fighting ability. A brawler yet to be contended with.”

Ceer bounded on his feet, his eyes alit. “A challenge?”

“Yes, Ceer. Dive right in.”