Choose The Slain (The Lone Valkyrie Book 2) Read online

  Christine shook her head. “There is no ship. Drude are one of the few races in the known universe that do not require a ship to travel through it. They can transport themselves and their thralls with little effort.”

  “How many thralls can they take with them?” Mila asked out of curiosity.

  “They brought vast armies with them when they attacked my planet. The stories say thralls covered the landscape like locusts, swarming in the millions, and overrunning our cities with sheer numbers.”

  Mila snorted. “So the answer is a lot.”

  Christine nodded. “A metric shit-ton.”

  There was nothing else Mila needed to know. Evidently the only way to fight a Drude was with more power; something that was becoming rarer as Azoth slowly picked Valkyries off one by one.

  They chatted about the mundane after that, mostly about Finn and what he had been up to lately. Christine was excited that Penny was finally attempting to lay her eggs, and asked that Mila tell the little dragon to come visit soon. They spoke for nearly a half an hour before Remmy came out of the goblin den at the back of the cavern and told Mila she was ready to go whenever.

  They made their goodbyes, and Mila promised to come back soon with Finn and Penny for a nice dinner with Christine.

  The naga gave Mila a hug and a pat on the cheek as they left the cavern. Mila decided she liked the half-snake woman and made a note to get down to see her again soon.

  The way back to the Market, while still confusing to Mila, made a little more sense now that she had done it once before. Remmy led the way, and when they were close enough that the sounds of commerce were more than a whisper on the wind, Remmy said she was ready for a snack at the food court.

  Mila agreed that some food sounded good, but that she had left her wallet at home. Remmy pulled out a small wad of cash.

  “I’ve got it, boss.”

  Remmy led the way to her favorite noodle bar on the edge of the food court at the heart of the Market.

  It was a rather ratty-looking white-and-red-stripped tent with a wooden counter that blocked the view to the prep area were various columns of steam rose and filled the air with a savory pork-like smell. Mila looked up at the sign, which was a picture of a bowl full of noodles and three slices of meat.

  “What is this place? It looks sketchy as hell.”

  Remmy just grabbed her hand and pulled her to the counter. “It doesn't have a name. Everyone just calls it That Noodle Soup Place at the Food Court. You like pork, right?”

  Mila gave her a narrow gaze. “Is it Earth pork, or am I going to find out later that it’s a slug or something?”

  Remmy rolled her eyes and turned to the old man behind the counter. Mila jumped at the sight of him, not having realized that the man was a Peabrain. He was so old, stooped, and wrinkly that Mila couldn't tell what nationality he was. Not to mention the too-large food-stained white apron covered everything but his wrinkled and liver-spotted arms and hands. On a second glance, Mila was pretty sure the apron was all he was wearing, at least on top; she just prayed that he had pants on, without looking to check.

  “Two number threes, please. And can you put extra eggs in both?”

  The ancient man nodded slowly before shuffling behind the tall counter. Mila wasn't tall enough to see what was happening back there, but by the sound of it, ten people were suddenly very busy. At one point, chopped green onion started shooting up into the air, followed by a ball of cooked noodles trailing steaming water droplets. Then, just as fast as it started, it stopped, and the stooped man shuffled out from behind the counter, two steaming bowls of soup in his hands. He set them down on the counter and slowly slid two pairs of chopsticks and two wide, flat spoons forward far enough that Remmy could reach them.

  Remmy peeled off thirty bucks from the roll and handed it to the old man. “Keep the change, Grandpa.”

  The old man nodded, took the money, stuffed it in his apron pocket, then sat on a small wooden stool and immediately fell asleep.

  Mila leaned over the short section of counter where Remmy had ordered to see how many people the old guy had working back there, but there was no one but the old man.

  “What the fuck?”

  “Come on, it’s best to eat while it’s hot.”

  Remmy picked up her bowl and utensils and carefully walked to the closest picnic table, doing her best not to spill any of the soup.

  Mila picked her order up and followed, taking a close look at the contents of the bowl. The broth was an opaque milky tan color, with a pile of noodles in the middle. On top of the noodles were two breaded and fried cutlets of meat that did in fact look like pork, cut into half-inch strips. Two brown-colored hard-boiled eggs were on one side, with a pile of green onion and thin-sliced mushrooms on the other.

  Taking a deep whiff of the soup, Mila smiled and put a skip in her step as she joined Remmy at the table. “This is tonkatsu ramen! Why didn't you say that form the beginning?”

  Remmy shrugged. “Never heard of it.”

  “What? It’s a staple Japanese food. We passed a place that has this stuff on the way to the Market from the condo.”

  Remmy laughed. “There’s nothin like this, boss. I’ll eat my spandex if you don't think it’s the greatest thing you’ve ever eaten.”

  Mila scoffed. “I’ve had ramen in Kyoto and Tokyo. I doubt this will beat that, so I’ll take that bet.” She ladled out a spoonful of the broth and blew on it a few times before slurping it up as Remmy watched her with a smug smile on her face.

  Mila rolled the broth around her mouth, giving it a chance. The longer it was on her tongue, the better it tasted. It quickly outpaced anything she had eaten recently and blew the local ramen place out of the water. It blew the doors off the food from her Japan trip with ease.

  The silky-smooth, savory, umami blast of flavor made her tear up with joy. “Oh. My. God. He has to be using magic to make this so good. There is no way you could do this without some kind of help.”

  “So, my spandex is safe?” Remmy gloated.

  Mila just nodded.

  “I know he doesn't use magic, by the way. He can't. He’s not awoken.” Remmy slurped up a chopstick full of noodles, flinging broth off the whipping ends.

  “I thought you had to be a magical to get into the Market?” The pork cutlet was to die for, and she let out a loud moan of pleasure.

  “They make an exception for Grandpa. As far as I know, he’s the only one. The food’s too good, ya know?”

  Mila nodded, her mouth full of the best thing she had ever eaten.

  They fell silent, the only sounds for the next ten minutes slurping and moans of pleasure.

  Mila leaned back, putting a hand on her slightly distended belly. “Fuck me. That was amazing. Why the hell didn't Finn bring me here instead of over to the place that sells fried larvae? Grandpa just got himself a new regular.”

  “Amen, sister,” Remmy groaned, rubbing her belly.

  They sat in food euphoria for a few minutes, letting the ramen experience flood through them both.

  A scream cut through the general noise of the Market, making both of them sit up and take note. Mila raised an eyebrow at Remmy, who shrugged. There was a second scream, followed quickly by a third and a fourth. Then all hell broke loose.

  It sounded like it was coming from the main entrance, but Mila was too short to see over the tents. She quickly scrambled onto the table and stood on her tiptoes, trying to get a view.

  The arch to the main entrance’s stairway was the center of the disturbance. People were scrambling away from the opening in all directions as Rougarou poured into the crowd. They were attacking indiscriminately, slashing anyone in range, and sending out sprays of blood as their long black talons found soft flesh.

  Mila watched in stunned horror as a wave of thralls followed the Rougarou. They were mostly Peabrains, but there were a few magicals mixed in. They all moved in jerks and starts, as if the zombie apocalypse were pouring down the stairs. As soon as th
e thralls got close to a victim, however, their movements became more fluid as they pounced and began slamming fists into their targets.

  Finally, a lone figure walked down the steps. It was Yaminah, Azoth’s disciple. Mila recognized her form the very first dream Azoth had sent her.

  Standing at nearly six feet, Yaminah had a commanding presence, with wide shoulders and a permanently furrowed brow. She wore her black hair in one thick braid that hung down to her calves and was cinched with a golden ring at the end. Her long black robe was open in the front, revealing simple black pants and a form-fitting t-shirt.

  Mila's breath caught in her throat when Yaminah looked up and locked eyes with her. A beat passed as recognition cemented itself in the woman, and she slowly raised an arm to point at Mila.

  “Take her down!”

  The Rougarou and thralls stopped attacking those closest to them and turned to face Mila.

  “Oh, fuck. Remmy, we have incoming. A lot of incoming.”

  Remmy dashed to the closest food cart and snatched a pair of knives, to the protests of the cart’s owner. She dashed into the maze of picnic tables and held the blades at the ready.

  “Let’s see who can kill more of them,” Remmy suggested. She let out a battle cry that honestly impressed Mila.

  Tents and small wooden structures began to be launched into the air as the Rougarou took the most direct route to their prey, which was through several rows of stalls.

  Mila pulled out Gram and activated the sword with a whispered word, letting the golden blade unfold to its full length. Another word of power and her mythril armor rose out of her skin like condensation on a cold glass. She debated using the Ivar but decided there were far too many bystanders for the gun.

  Mila set her jaw. It was time to put all that practice to work.

  Chapter Nine

  “How many?” Remmy shouted up at Mila, who was still on the table.

  “Three dozen, at least. Half Rougarou and half thralls. Plus, there’s a powerful caster leading them. So, probably more than we can handle.” Mila looked over to Remmy, but she was gone.

  Mila quickly looked around and caught a flash of green hoodie disappear around a tent in the opposite direction from the incoming enemy. Finn had said that goblins were powerful in groups, but fairly cowardly alone. Mila had never thought that would have applied to Remmy.

  As she gritted her teeth, Mila let the disappointment of being abandoned wash away. She would just have to deal with the enemy on her own. But when she saw several of the Market-goers open up on the charging beasts, she realized that she wouldn’t be fighting alone.

  Bubbles that transformed into flying spears or small fireballs slammed into the backs of some of the thralls, to send them tumbling to the ground where they lay still. Soon, more of the bystanders joined in to blast away at the attackers. Mila didn’t have time to see just how effective the help was as the rushing Rougarou tore through the last line of booths and trampled them into the ground.

  The fireballs gave Mila an idea. Since most of the Rougarou charged through the freshly made gap in the tents instead of making new holes, she decided now was a perfect time to use some of her new powers.

  As she released her magic, Mila felt a heady rush of power flow from the back of her skull out to her extremities. She concentrated, willing some of the power to pool in her left hand. Once she felt she had enough magic roiling just below her skin, she snapped her gaze up and focused on her target.

  Mila dropped off the end of the table, let out a war cry of pure determination, and slammed the palm of her hand against the concrete floor. The magic she had pulled together rushed out of her, leaving a void quickly filled by her reserves.

  In her mind, Mila imagined a line of intense flames ripping across the stone and enveloping the area between the booth. The celestial magic obeyed her wishes, and a white-hot flame raced across the floor directly into the massed Rougarou.

  The sound of howling pain filled the Market as the three wolfmen in the lead were incinerated where they stood. Unfortunately, the rest of the packed beast-men dove to either side, avoiding the worst of the magical flames.

  Mila knew she would be surrounded out in the open, and quickly backed into the maze of picnic tables. She jumped onto a tabletop so she wouldn’t be at such a height disadvantage against the eight-foot-tall Rougarou still rushing over the burned and twitching bodies of their comrades.

  In seconds, the lead Rougarou closed the distance as it jumped over the tables like they weren’t even there. Before she knew it, the beast swiped its talons at Mila’s heart.

  Her shield formed purely by instinct. She tucked in behind it as celestial power infused her body to reinforce her physical abilities so the Rougarou’s hit didn’t shove her off the tabletop.

  Golden sparks showered from the invisible shield and bounced the Rougarou’s arm back as if it had hit a trampoline to leave its right side open.

  Mila dropped the shield and stabbed hard with Gram. A howl of pain and a slight resistance told Mila that she had hit the mark. With her enhanced muscles, Mila slashed sideways and sliced the Rougarou practically in half at chest level.

  Blood splattered on her face as she pulled the blade free. There was no time to rejoice in her victory, however, as three more wolfmen took the first one’s place.

  Mila charged.

  As she leaped off the end of the table, she used the still falling form of her first victim as a springboard and dove over the incoming Rougarou to catch them off-guard.

  Gram flashed out to slice the head and shoulder from one of the wolfmen. The other two lashed out with their talons, but she had already passed them and now rolled on the ground toward the larger bulk of the pack. She caught glimpses of bared teeth as she rolled and timed her next move perfectly.

  She used the momentum of her roll to spin up into a kneeling position, yanked the Ivar from its holster, and aimed it at the center mass of the group of Rougarou coming through the gap. She pulled the trigger to send a bolt of pure celestial magic into the crowd of furry bodies.

  Without sticking around to see what happened, Mila spun back to the two Rougarou she had just leapt over and charged towards them again as she re-holstered the Ivar. The sound of the celestial bolt exploding behind her, followed by the yelping cries of several of the enemy, told her the shot had been effective.

  In anticipation that she would, once again, jump over them, both wolfmen raised their arms and tilted their heads back slightly. So they were quite confused when instead she dropped to her knees and slid between the left one’s legs.

  Gram made short work of the muscle and bone of the Rougarou’s left thigh and chopped the limb off just above the knee.

  Despite her enhanced reflexes and speed, the beast-men were still unimaginably quick as Mila learned when she felt the sting of talons ripping into her back.

  The pain was manageable, especially since her mythril armor stopped the razor-sharp claws from breaking the skin. The mass of the Rougarou behind the forceful hit slammed Mila to the stone floor. She felt one of her ribs crack as the blow drove the wind from her.

  Excruciating pain radiated from her back near her spine, where the rib had snapped. Mila groaned but knew she had no time to deal with the pain. She released a small trickle of magic and the pain vanished. She needed to be careful as the magic hadn’t healed her, just cut off her ability to feel the physical effects of her injuries. Pain was an early warning system the body used to keep you from injuring yourself beyond repair, and she had just cut the wires.

  Mila copied the move she had seen Remmy do earlier after their sparring and placed her free hand on the ground beside her head, then did a one-handed kip up. As she landed on her feet, she spun to face the last Rougarou and nearly screamed when she saw it was right in her face, the black talons of both hands coming in from both sides to shred her.

  Her shield went up just in time. Sparks danced along both sides of the half-sphere shield, and she dropped to one knee.


  Saliva dripped from the open maw of the crazed wolfman, his teeth bared as a snarl rumbled out of his throat. The thick, foamy spittle plopped onto her shield and slowly slid down the magical barrier.

  “I can actually smell your breath through my shield,” Mila said in disgust.

  That just seemed to enrage the beast and send him into a flurry of blows, his claws striking the shield over and over to no avail. Mila took the relative safety of the moment to assess the situation.

  Tents and booths popped out of existence as the store owners teleported themselves and their goods to safety. Nearly two-thirds of the remaining stalls were empty, and the density of bystanders had thinned considerably. Luckily, not everyone was running.

  At least ten men and women of different magical races still unleashed hell on the horde that had attacked their place of safety from nowhere. They focused their efforts mostly on the Rougarou since they appeared to be the more threatening enemy. Only three Rougarou, besides the one Mila kept occupied, remained. However, they dodged attacks from multiple opponents while closing on their attackers.

  Mila immediately saw that the problem was not going to be the closing Rougarou, but the zombie-like thralls that had circled around behind one line of Market defenders. They were about to be swarmed.

  “Behind you!” Mila screamed, but there was far too much noise echoing off the stone and brick walls for her to be heard.

  The first thrall got to its target in a stumbling, reaching grab that took the elf woman by surprise. She screamed, sending an elbow into the slack-jawed thrall, breaking the bone, but the man that the thrall used to be didn’t feel the pain and held on tight. A second thrall latched onto her, and between the two of them, they got a hold of an arm each and began to pull in opposite directions.

  Mila gritted her teeth and slammed her free hand onto the floor, sending a spike of magic and a thought to shape it into the stone. The magic was more than happy to conform to her will; she was, after all, fighting the agents of a tyrant.