Ruein: Fires of Haraden: Action/Adventure Necromancy Series (Books of Ruein Book 2) G.O. Turner (top 20 books to read .TXT) 📖

your own blessed way. A path to something higher is there for all. I’m not—don’t. This isn’t what…”

The crowd hauled her about. Liv’s boots scrambled against cobblestones but failed to catch leverage. In an uneven scuffle up the alley, they moved inland. She was coming along, not dragged as much as caught up in desperation.

Liv’s struggle eased as a large figure strode into view.

The crowd slowed to a stop.

Crossing muscular tattooed arms, Ceer stood tall. Nostrils flared as he set his tusked jaw into a scowl.

Yes.

The shoremen looked to one another, doubts scrawled on their faces. A few defensive hands rose.

The stout Stoll glowered back at his people, then jabbed a finger at the tattooed stranger. “Oy! No one invited your sort ’ere, orc.”

“Half,” barked Ceer.

Stol squinted. “Wha? Half-orc?”

“Ceer blame weak-side. The rest…all orc.” Knuckles cracked as Ceer ratcheted hands over fists. “Guess what that make, human.”

Stol haunched himself.

The tougher shoremen gathered on Ceer as the group began to rile. This was definitely not what Liv wanted. She reached, attempting to hold the tide. Amid her search for words—

“Ho. Ho!” A high-pitched voice chirped far behind. “Here. Now, let me have at that math!”

Liv snapped back.

Past the scrum of shoulders and heads, on the other end of the alley, sat two gnomes. A smiling Twigs and another bushy-browed, more dapper gent. The pair were propped upon kegs, swinging legs.

“Let’s see.” Holding up a chalk slate, the dapper gnome flipped it over. He scrawled on his facing side. “Take twelve local scurvies, multiply by intellect, sub-divide by wisdom, add a dollop of tusky-warrior…”

Liv caught wording on the slate’s back. Was that a manifest?

He peeked over the top. “Got it!”

With a flourish, the gnome flipped the board to reveal his solution. It was a stick figure depiction: a heaped townie pile with X’s for eyes, beneath a decidedly orcish non-stick-thin figure. Playful eyes leered over the edge of the blackboard. “What do you think, Stolly? Seem about right?”

Liv regarded the stout shoreman.

The crowd’s fervor shifted to worried glances of each other. They seemed to deflate, voices held in check. Liv glared at Stol. His sneer collapsed as his eyes danced between all those present.

Amidst the jumble of others, the original hearty fisherman responded, “No harm meant, Mr. Fllyn. Some ailments can seep into heads as well. Make people not see right. Right, Stol?”

Stol tipped up to call over their heads, “Yessir. No harm.”

The dapper gnome raised hands. “Woah. Hey. Don’t let me stop ya. This’d be a perfectly fine alley to recover in.” He returned to scrawling chalk on board, his eyebrows arched as he continued, “I mean, sure. There’s something to be said being all cut from the same cloth. Might unnerve some to think just ’cause a body wasn’t blessed to be born in Nursk might be a danger. But who’m I ta judge?” He flicked a look back.

Stol smiled a toothy grin. “Course not. Heh, all ships rise in trade.”

As the crowd disbanded, the hearty fisherman stepped before Stol. Apologetic eyes drifted over Liv before he addressed the gnome, “We didn’t know you’re expecting guests, Mr. Fllyn.”

“What, these schlubs? Noops. First ta set eyes.” Dropping one hand on Twigs’ shoulder, he outstretched his other and beamed. “Leafar Fllyn, good sir. Happy to meet.”

“To know a gnome is to love a gnome!” Twigs snatched up the offered palm. “Giffling. Twigs, if ya please.”

Shrugging off her tensed muscles, Liv strode over to the half-orc and lowered her voice. “Well-timed, Ceer. Knocking skulls in a brawl was not what I’d intended for the town. Where’s Ruein?”

Ceer eyed the crowd as they shuffled off in various directions. “Came upon loaded wagons.” He looked back the way he’d arrived. “Whole bunch. Ruein guess that caravan. Ceer and Ruein looking for who in charge when Ceer heard ruckus this way. Came to see.”

Rounding herself to the happy gnomes, Liv added, “Looks like you weren’t the only one.”

The two warriors crossed the alley, observing their diminutive heroes. Twigs was a beaming roll-of-eyes and wide arm gestures. Leafar nodded along, glancing their way as they approached.

Leafar craned up at Ceer. “Woof! You’re telling me, you rode in on that?!”

Twigs nodded. “You swing with the stride, my friend. Less bounce, better views. Allow me?”

“Oh, do go.”

Bounding onto his feet, Twigs balanced atop the barrel and opened an arm toward his companions. “I present my friend and warhorse, Ceer of the Wayward Home, as well as Lightbringer Liv of Vandraport. Liv, Ceer, this is Leafar Fllyn of…” He glanced over at his barrelmate.

Their rescuing gnome spun himself up to a stance. He crooked a slight bow. “…of fine dining, creature comforts, and ravisher of wee women both near and far.”

Alright.

Outside of Mr. Fllyn’s stature, his attire also distinguished him. Unlike the locals, here was a smartly dressed and groomed gnome. Salt and pepper hair was cropped tight down to his sideburns. His hood, lowered about his neck, wreathed him in an amber fur Liv didn’t recognize. This rose out of his henna-red coat, buttoned up with knots and pegs down the front. His leggings and boots showed little signs of wear. How in the hells could anyone look this fresh in such a place?

Liv offered a smirk. “Well, I think you’ll find me…not so wee.”

Leafar clicked his tongue. “Bet a badger on that. Still, a friend of kinfolk makes for alright by me.” He eyed Ceer. “A half-orc and a gnome. Thought I’d not see the like outside the Realm. Ah, the world is coming unsundered.”

“Realm?” Ceer’s brow rose. “Leafar mean Haraden?”

Glancing the way they’d come, Liv whispered to Ceer. “Only so many realms this far north.”

“Here…now.” Leafar squinted as his smile diminished.

“Mah! Realm-schmelm.” Twigs squeezed his shoulders. “How ’bout we show Leafar here gratitude? Surely, there’s somewhere one can flee the cold for a flagon and a warm backside. Yes?”

The dapper gnome brightened. “There ya go! ’Tain’t much for clever taverns here. But I’ve managed once or twice at a bit of a grub pub…if’n you’re buying.”

Good redirect,