Wrath & Bones (The Marnie Baranuik Files Book 4)

by A. J. Aalto

  It took the troll all of half a heartbeat to assess the situation; a dozen primeval revenants stood aside while a single, slight woman faced him down on her own. And then there was me. He dismissed me with a single glance. The coward in me wanted to burrow under the snow and listen to Toothless Hawkins and His Robot Jazz Band on repeat until this whole thing blew over. Too bad I traded away my iPhone to some spriggans.

  The scout stood up straight and gave a little stretch of his neck, then took two steps toward Remy, cocking his head to one side and then the other. Inter-species body language for what-are-you? She licked her lips and smiled, flashing full fang, but made no move to approach him. Instead, she relaxed her shoulders and waited for him to come to her, her face soft and unconcerned.

  “With whom do I speak?” Remy asked.

  “I am called Manflay, yieldling. Where is your Master? Where is your king?”

  “He is removed,” she said.

  “For what reason?”

  “That’s none of your business, troll,” Malas Nazaire spoke up.

  But Remy answered lightly, “Madness.”

  The scout’s lips peeled off his teeth and he shook enough to clue me in that he was laughing.

  Remy’s lips curled into a red crook and her laugh matched his, husky and monstrous. “I am the only master you need worry about, scout. And I am no yieldling now.”

  His shoulders did an interesting ripple as though the tension travelled from left to right, and he craned forward down at her. I tensed as his face got close to hers, so close that his exhale moved soft strands of black hair back from her pale temple.

  “Time to go home,” she said quietly. “You were told not to return. Your appetites are intolerable. The age of the troll has passed.”

  “We return.” His upper lip lifted off a human-looking canine again. “We hunger.”

  Remy was unmoved. “Your kind will not return again.”

  “And who will stop us?” He cast a calculating eye to the elder revenants, dismissing me and Declan entirely. “Your old men do not seem eager to stand at your side. Could it be that they do not like you, Little Fangs? Perhaps they want me to destroy you for them?” He sneered. “You are alone. I will cook my dinner over your dust tonight.”

  His eyes flicked at me, and I knew I was on the menu.

  “Then I will take them…” He continued, pointing at the Falskaar Vouras with his massive war hammer, and the wiry muscles in his arm stood at attention, strained against leather strapping, bulged alarmingly. It did not surprise me to find that the hammer had silver spikes along its flat planes. I wondered if he had access to rowan wood, and pushed invading thoughts of Batten out of my head. “... and use their ashes to paint my face.”

  “Is that so? Just you? One troll will take down all the Falskaar Vouras single-handed?” She indicated them with a wave of her hand. “My, my. Aren’t you an impressive specimen,” Remy purred up at him. “You’re quite right, of course: they want to watch you to ruin me. But they also need me. I don’t need them.”

  As if to substantiate her claim, an intense boom resonated in the gathering clouds above, rolling and rolling. The troll swung his war hammer, a great, slow weapon, and it impacted the ice with a resounding thud that I felt through my Keds. Remy sidestepped neatly with a coy giggle and did a little two-step before kicking him solidly in the side of his knee. The bone snapped loudly. With an angry huff, the troll catapulted toward Remy. She opened her arms to him, letting him come. Wrapping her arms completely around him, trapping his arms next to his body, she squeezed sharply. He dropped the hammer as both his arms broke. I winced at the wet, meaty crack.

  “You’re too late to stop us,” he snarled at her. “My people come.”

  Remy twisted him, her greenish-silver eyes brightening even further until they glowed nearly white. She slapped one hand on his head to bend his neck. It was then that she paused to look beyond him, casting her gaze north to the sea. I looked, too.

  The first invading ship was sliding through the fog towards shore. The troll scout struggled with renewed fury against her body and she smiled down at him around full fangs.

  “Look what you brought me, my dear, sweet, lying fiend. Treats. You spoil me.”

  He groaned and thrashed while she tightened her grip. Something else cracked. It might have been his ribs. Or possibly his spine.

  “Mmmm. The pleasure’s all mine.” Darting her head forward, she plunged her fangs messily into his throat. A gory maroon spray hit her face and ran down in thick gobbets, darker and slower than human blood would be, but she didn’t care. Shaking her head like a dog with a marrow-rich bone, she fed with shocking brutality.

  Just beyond the fog, the Falskaar Vouras lurked, watching their new queen feed. One of them moaned at the sight of so much wasted blood, followed by another. They were startled en masse by what she did next.

  Having drained the troll scout, she used the yeti nail to open her wrist deeply with a single slash; she thrust the gaping wound against his mouth. I wanted to say something. I tried to say something. All that came out of my mouth was “fnarf” again; Remy affected me that way sometimes.

  The troll scout’s eyes popped open again and he threw back his head, grinding it into the snow as his back arched, coming clear off the ground. His arms twitched and his boots kicked against the ice. His color paled in front of our eyes from green to yellow to near white. When he was finished, he flipped to his belly, attempted to slap-crawl from Remy, but his arms hadn't re-knit yet, and his legs were only partially working. She let him go, her laugh low and sultry, but followed his struggle with slow steps, strolling aside him as he wormed away. When he glanced back at Remy, his eyes rolling in terror, I could see fresh new fangs in his mouth.

  For a second, I felt a pang of pity for him. He was being toyed with, and knew it. I felt Declan slide up beside me. Konrad Rask had come ashore to join his crew.

  “Okay, that’s fucking alarming,” I said to them both. “Insta-turn.”

  “Insta-turn is bad, Dr. B.”

  “Our new queen could turn the whole invading troll army in a single night.”

  “I have a feeling that’s not what she’s after,” Declan said, pointing at the clouds.

  There was a peal of thunder followed by a searing bolt from above. It struck the scout’s ship and forked to the mast. The ship smoked and the blaze moved quickly. With a bumping creak, the ship tilted as the trolls abandoned ship into the icy water. In seconds, the boat was a raging inferno. Screams made terrible music across the water. Manflay had barely grunted as he'd had three limbs and his spine broken. Something very seriously bad had to be going on over there where I couldn't see it.

  Rask stepped past us to follow Remy, drawn forward by the siren call of her storm, and the brewing system intensified as he joined her; wind growled to life and tossed back my hair. As though they weighed a ton, Rask pushed his hands overhead at the circling clouds. The eye of the storm began to move and grumble. Remy shot him an inscrutable look, then drove her tiny foot into the snow three times, the insistent stamping of a summons.

  The snow began drifting to one side as a crack branched from the center of the hump and a puff of light frost became airborne, sifting down through the Arctic air atop the growing splinter. The ground gave a quake like a live thing waking from a bad dream. Rask moved away from it, but did not look surprised.

  Unfolding before Remy was a silver-grey coil of snake body, covered with a sheen of frost and overlapping layers of scales. The coils continued to churn out of the snow, on and on, cracking ice into big shards that jutted up in jagged ridges. At last, a spiked tail slapped the ground, shifting back and forth as though nestling in for another long nap.

  Remy watched as if this was no big deal, strolling along the edge of the activity, monitoring the great wyrm’s progress. When it was clear this one was freeing itself nicely, Remy turned to air her gaze at another hump in the snow. Another coil hissed out of the snow pile; this one had a he
ad.

  A flat black eye peeled open to fix on me. I looked very, very small in the reflection, like a tiny morsel of meat, a wee appetizer for a wyrm with the munchies. Remy must have read my mind; her head rocked back with the force of her laughter. A straight shot of delight hit me in the belly. The first queen of the Falskaar Vouras blossomed as I watched, came into her own, throwing up her arms to the cold, black sky, a bright spot of glory in the darkness. The first coils were joined by a third and fourth by the time I realized it wasn’t many wyrms but one great beast with many heads, all four of which twisted and turned until they locked onto their mistress. Feeling like I must certainly be dreaming, I stepped closer to Remy.

  That was a mistake. Her head flashed toward me, fangs fully extended, and she demanded, “We would feed again,” before clutching my arm, hissing.

  I went very still. “I’m sure you’d like that, but…”

  I wondered what Harry would want me to say here, or do. What would Batten do? Batten would have staked her already, choosing to fight the trolls himself. I knew that wasn't possible; also, it was fatally stupid. A Stonecoat boggle in an open pit mine? Fine, we could handle that. A lovelorn yeti squatting in a fighting cage? Sure, I’ll deal with it. Spriggans with unusual titles stealing my iPhone? Cake. The fog-portal between the troll island and the rest of the world breaking open and thousands of Ninespine Stickleback trolls coming behind this scout dude? Nope. Not a chance. Not even with a four-headed Baltic sea wyrm limbering up in my corner.

  “We must feed,” Remy insisted, showing me the yeti nail tucked between her knuckles the same way I’d held it. It was slick with the inky blue revenant nectar of her veins.

  We? I looked at the wyrm, now fully uncovered, shaking free of its frosty tomb and looking every inch the long, many-headed dragon Zmey Gorynych of the Ukraine, and starting to huff and puff from massive nostrils. I tried not to think of the size of its teeth, and wondered how being eaten by a dragon was any better than being eaten by trolls. Probably faster, but that wasn't exactly a reassuring thought.

  “Erect a statue to me here,” I said to Declan and his creepy-ass mother, only half-joking. “Marnie Baranuik was Here. Took One for the Team in a Big, Huge, and Totally Awesome Way. Give the wyrm statue a napkin and a knife and fork, and make sure the statue-me is pouting. This really sucks as a way to die!” I thought fast. “Lady, I thought you wanted to walk in the lavender!”

  Remy had enough of my antics and brought me closer, her grip loosening to a gentle tug.

  “Mother,” Declan blurted. “She’s done enough for you. I will do this.” He strode to the wyrm and offered his warm arm to her. Remy considered her wet son; Declan’s hair was curled tightly from the icy water and dripped in his eyes, the green mirrors of her own. She looked at his wrist and reluctantly pressed the yeti nail into it. Declan’s mouth popped open. He managed to whisper, “Dr. B, it feels like nothing,” before the wyrm reared up and latched on to his flesh and his words turned to an agonized howl.

  Feeding the wyrm was something else entirely, and the Blue Sense rocked me with Declan’s instant regret. The wyrm had a fat, lamprey-like proboscis that wriggled into the slash in Declan’s wrist and began to pull greedily, suckling loudly. Remy kept one eye on the troll, whose body bucked in the midst of his turning. When the wyrm detached from Declan, the dhampir fell on his ass with a gurgle.

  The wyrm slithered to the coast and sank under the waves, the tip of his tail causing not a ripple in the icy water. Seconds later, it wrapped around the next troll ship. The crew, caught between the ice-cold, wyrm-infested waters and the revenant queen, chose perhaps the worst option. They came aground and started across the ice toward the fenced-in cemetery. The ship creaked under the pressure of the great wyrm’s coils and began to splinter.

  Remy turned her attention to Captain Rask with interest.

  “Wind Keeper,” Rask greeted. “Troll Eater. Dread Lady Dreppenstedt. The service of my house is yours.”

  “Yes, it is,” Remy said. “Now, I feed my faithful subjects.” When she said this, her gaze slid toward the Falskaar Vouras, who waited in the shadows to see what was next. Offered the throats of the fleeing trolls, their loyalty was purchased; they fell upon the escaping trolls like a flock of ravens, picking off one after another until the snow was littered with bodies. I turned my eyes away; my Harry was not with them. I wondered if Wilhelm had forbade him from coming, for fear Harry would get mixed up in the brawl. The sounds of the slaughter behind me were enough to make my already churning stomach threaten once more.

  I dropped to my knees in the snow by Declan, who was applying pressure to his wrist; his blood was a reassuring red, though slightly more opalescent than that of a mortal human. “I have a question, Dr. B.,” he said, dazed.

  “The answer is a high-pitched shriek followed by me running away, right?”

  “Are you hearing that noise? The one under the troll screams?”

  “Does it sound like a lion gargling a mouth full of nails in the middle of a tornado made of Metallica fans? Cuz that’s what my nervous bladder just reported,” I said. “I think it’s the wyrm.”

  At sea, several other ships poured out of the fog. Remy wasn’t watching them. Instead, she had turned her small, heart-shaped face up at the giant captain of the Meita, studying his face with concentration. She read his thoughts, his emotions, his future, his potential, all in one sweep, and reached to take his giant hand in her tiny one. Together, they walked north, toward the coast. Though I was not in favor of being invaded by trolls, I suddenly feared for them; the pair of Stormbringers, one of whom was also wildly telekinetic, were about to demolish their entire fleet, and casually so.

  The wyrm rolled under the ice in white coils, sinking beneath the surface and causing wild eddies all around it; responding to its mistress’s call, it rose up in the water in a great splash and heaved its whole body on the next ship.

  Declan and I ignored the trolls screaming in the cemetery as the Falskaar Vouras tidied up the last few of them, watching with amazement as the two Stormbringers caused absolute chaos over the ocean. As scientists, our attention was most taken by the wyrm, and all the tiny ripples caused by the white larvae coming up from the deep to feed beside momma. I couldn’t help but notice that Remy kept a tight hold of Rask’s right hand, and though ship after ship demanded his attention, the captain didn’t seem the least bit worried that his one hand was stubbornly claimed by his tiny new queen.

  “Declan?” I offered him a gloved hand. When he took it, we helped each other to our feet, both of us wincing with pain and tired and stunned.

  “I think she’s got this.”

  I smiled weakly at him. “Is it time for me to collapse yet?”

  He nodded.

  “Declan?”

  “Yes, Dr. B?”

  “You promised you’d call me G-Pfeff.”

  Declan barked and leaned against me, shoulder to shoulder. Together, we collected the battered remains of my artifacts, swiped the bloodied nail from the snow, and returned to the stronghold to await our appointment before the Overlord.

  Chapter 37

  Okay, so I was coming in without my Second, because my Second was an unforgivably selfish wang-knob and had pulled a disappearing act. My rescue-artifacts hadn’t exactly done anything except give me a wicked case of the Satan-shits, and had turned out to be pointless demon nonsense. So I was coming in bruised, bitten, and beaten the fuck down. But I had made a goddamn queen last night, and Dark Lady knew I had my fucking swagger back. Harry had been dragged ahead with the Dreppenstedt crew and Declan and I were hurrying to catch up. Time to present myself before the throne and get my dismissal. I felt like I was channeling Remy as I stormed down the hall and kicked the door with my Ked. Unfortunately, the door did not crash open with a shudder like I’d planned. It barely jiggled. The thing was heavier than I was. I stepped back and tried again. Declan waited patiently for me to try a third time, holding my battered sack of remaining quest goo
dies, eyes politely averted so as to not witness my ridiculousness. I snarled like a poodle on a pocket rocket and gave up on my kicking, throwing my shoulder against the door and scrambling to shove it open.

  Declan whispered, “Doin’ good, Dr. B, almost got it.”

  I gave up. “Would you please?”

  He pushed the lever and heaved the door open before us.

  We were the last ones to enter. The houses had gathered under their banners, and Remy stood with her back to Declan and me, facing the Unhallowed Throne, making her way through the room she now dominated. Skulesdottir was hers. Behind the throne, none of the original sentinels stood. Now, only the Overlord and the Stonecaller awaited her. We scooted around her, Declan going to Malas’s side, me going to Harry and Wilhelm.

  Remy threw her arms wide, and the black lace of her shroud fluttered like madly tattered wings. “Come and face your creation. Your daughter comes from exile, your Emptied Womb, your Hungry End. Here I am,” she declared, her voice echoing in the cavernous throne room, “and I demand an audience.”

  She swept forward, unstoppable, modeling a confident strut that was all hips and passion, quick powerful steps in bare feet that slapped loudly like retribution against the marble in the icy silence that followed her arrival. I’d seen models on the Paris runways walk like that, a strut overflowing with agile grace and a subtle, delicate vitality that I couldn’t have replicated without breaking a hip. Laughter flashed in her eyes as they spiraled from green through chrome to settle into the brightest platinum glimmer I’d seen since the time Harry went feral. I thought, The Inexhaustible Hunter. Chasseur inepuisable. Dreppenstedt.

  Behind her, Captain Rask was content to play her consort, his gaze utterly bewitched. He followed her to the dais, a massive shadow behind her tiny, swaying body. He had no banner, here, no place to sit or stand until now; now the Stormbringer’s place was with her.