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

She glared back.

Twigs draped his arm across the seat and added, “You know, Tolrah left after you did.”

“What Liv say to make go?” asked the half-orc.

“What’d you think a Lightbringer would say? I brought truth to the conversation. Had hoped some glimmer might sink in.”

Twigs mulled this. “Might be Tolrah had hoped for more of a glint than a glimmer…or even a wink.”

“Look, I’ll grant you Tolrah was as handsome as I’d ever seen. But not all of us here have the same wants. There’re some things more desirable than the shape of someone’s figure.”

“Ceer desire Tolrah,” he said, cocking his head.

Twigs elbowed his friend. “Thorn and thistle, who wouldn’t?”

Liv’s eyes scrunched, hands raised. “Ho, I knew you two skallyworgs were lustful, but I never expected you guys to jump ship and go to the other side.”

Ceer snapped her a look. “What Liv mean?”

Rubbing his temple, Twigs added, “I don’t know what so-called truth you’re telling yourself, but I have no shame for those curves in that form. Tolrah wasn’t the only one that was wet in and out of the bath.”

Liv’s eyes jammed shut. “Ugh! So glad I didn’t get in the water.”

At that, Ruein twisted around. Her normally vacant eyes jockeyed between the three of them.

Liv huffed out, “Look, I’m not going to fault you for appreciating beauty that stunning. For a man whore, he was—”

“Tolrah, wha?” Ceer interjected.

Twigs’ eyes bugged as he whirled around. “That’s it. I’m checking my divinshroom count, back in the room. Either she’s been sampling or our cleric needs an eye restorative.”

What’s with these two? Debates back at the Commercery merc table had shared much about how their heads were screwed on. However, the course of this conversation had taken a turn. She blinked at them, refocusing. “Where’s the confusion here? So, what…you two are all up with him being a she-whore and not a he-whore? Is that what I’m gathering?”

“Apart from the whole whore part.” Twigs’ eyes made a full rollback to her. “…uh, yeah.”

“Ceer not guy-wanter.”

She couldn’t help her smirk. “You two sure? I can be understanding. You know, night roads can get awful lonely.”

“See here.” Twigs leapt to his feet on the seat and skewered Liv with a finger. “I’m not ashamed of what’s good and natural. Don’t go trying to twist away your own wants on us. We weren’t the onlys who fancied Tolrah. Dare you try and deny.”

Liv regarded his little poke and lifted his finger. “Some of us have only one head to do our thinking. I’ll suggest you use the one we share in common.”

Having traversed the marketplace, their wagon turned onto a back road paralleling a high wall. With the rabble of the market behind, the dry breeze carried to them a clanking chime of tin from ahead. They passed through a walled gate to a roughened court.

Scraggly bits of yellowed grass wavered in the wagon-hardened ground. A large misshapen hovel presented before an even more immense barn. The clatter of pots and pans rang from a drying line stretched overhead.

Drawing to a stop, Tull stood and retrieved his halberd. His dark yet defined biceps flexed as he presented the barn. “We here.”

Liv gave him a considerate nod and turned for Twigs and Ceer. “Just checking, out of curiosity. What do you two make of our escort’s curves?”

19

Huh. This isn’t the usual men versus women debate from those three.

Ruein’s brow furrowed. There was a discomfort in this conversation she was more than eager to focus away from.

She already had a knot to unravel in order to placate a dragon.

Her silk blouse flowed as she dismounted quickly into her stance. She took in the structure looming before them. The oversized barn was wedged into a corner between the outer wall and the volcano. Past the familiar scents of the city, there came a whiff of brine.

Tull marched toward the hovel. “This way.”

The cobbled shanty’s door burst open as an amorphous gut squeezed its way through. Gnarled sandaled feet protruded under the lumbering belly. As the figure dislodged from the doorframe, a head and shoulders thrust out with a low bellow in undercommon. “More favors for Og’s good?”

With one eye a milky haze and the other a protruding glare, he smacked lips and gums, craning out a yawn. Scrawny hairs flicked across his smallish scabbed head. The obese giant lumbered to a stop and looked about. “Where you good barter?”

The dark-orc pumped a fist and brandished his Haraden bracer. “It is we Elite that guard your bartering. Show your gratitude, Og. I bring guests of the Apex. The council has tasked them for answers on the dead.”

Liv sidled over to Ruein. “Ugh. Is that supposed to be an ogre?” she whispered. “Looks as if Haraden living has been way too easygoing.”

Ceer joined. “More like eat half of Haraden. Is vessel undead?”

Ruein’s head shook, silencing the half-orc.

Og slapped a meaty palm against his gut. It undulated like a dungeon jelly. Scratching, he pivoted on a sandal and waved them forward as he lumbered toward the barn. Shoving a high latch on an immense door, Og tugged it open in a sideways roll. Ambient daylight alleviated little within the shadowy interior.

“Why’s it smell as if we’re at sea?” Liv’s questioning eyes probed the dark. Without waiting for Ruein’s response, she unhooked her mace. Belting out a celestine word, she held it aloft as her weapon luminesced, torchlike.

Mountains of white granules, off-hued in blue, climbed to the chamber’s roof. Mounds upon mounds of the stuff were stockpiled here for all the Realm. This was Haraden’s salt larder. Protruding from the backmost of three giant mounds, blossomed six burlap flowers. An oddity even to Ruein who had encountered strange things.

Tull motioned them to proceed as Og towered in behind. Ceer scratched at his tattooed head. “Why Tull bring here?”

“Makes sense,” said Twigs. “Without a necromancer, what better place to preserve?”

Tull’s undercommon barked for Og to produce one of the farmers. The ogre squeezed between