Barbarian Dragonslayer (Princesses of the Ironbound Book 5)

by Aaron Crash

  Della—caught in the swirl of color and sound, lost in the past—saw the hellhound for the first time. Her mind nearly came unraveled. She could feel her sanity quaking at the misshapen tentacles, the teeth that seemed to have devoured time itself, the eyes that had seen the beginning of world and would see the end of it.

  It was ancient and rotten and impossible.

  Della grasped the Veil Tear Ring and tore it from her finger.

  She bounced up from the couch, not saying a word. She hurried down the steps to the fifth level. Ymir, Lillee, and Tori raced after her, but they weren’t talking, and Della was glad.

  Voices at this point would only be a distraction. She had to find it. She had to get the book that Gulnash had found. It was rare, yes, but not overly so. She knew about the book but knew nothing about the author.

  She pulled the book from the stacks, a thick tome, bound in iron, with dust marking different aspects of the binding. However, there were claw marks there, the talons of the orc, marking where the iron and leather met.

  She walked quickly to a table and flung open the book. It was called The Arboris Almaris Almanac: Farming, Sorcery, and Visions of a Better World. It was written by Enjambin Fannrilk. The author was a mystery to Della.

  She opened the book so all the pages were resting on the front cover. On the back binding, there was a space between the paper and the leather where the iron rivets held the book together. Della pressed a finger against the paper. She could feel seeds there, relatively flat. She managed to dig one out. It was black with white ends. “Seeds. But Gulnash didn’t grow the Crystal Null Ring. He grew something that helped him make it.”

  Ymir drew close to her.

  Della felt the barbarian’s heat and smelled his body. The memory of his kiss and the feel of his hard cock pressing against her center made her dizzy with lust.

  Her Veil Tear vision felt unreal, important, but like a dream that was fading.

  Ymir, on the other hand, felt like the most real thing in the world. He waited for her to speak more.

  She let out a tense breath. “I’ll have to see about this text. I will take it with me.”

  Ymir touched her arm. “We do this together.”

  That touch was electric, and Della couldn’t think for a moment. Her entire world had become his fingers on her skin. She felt like a schoolgirl again. She had to swallow. “I will include you, Ymir. I would let you take it, but we both know Gatha would be upset. As the Princept, I have access to the full library.”

  “You check out the book. You give it to me. I will start.” Ymir’s eyes had gone from green to blue. He thought this was a fight.

  Was it really? Would Della really start reading that text that very night? No, but she would start her research by delving into who this Enjambin Fannrilk was and how his book had helped Gulnash forge a ring.

  Lillee stood behind Tori, and it was apparent that the elf maiden couldn’t focus on the night’s work. All she wanted was to get Ymir and their Morbuskor friend alone.

  Tori had her legs pushed together. “Can we...can we be done? We can do the book another time. I’m still in my Inconvenience.”

  Lillee stood quietly, her eyes a little unfocused, a blush on her chest and cheeks.

  Della gave the book to the barbarian. “You won’t make a move without me. You won’t use the seeds. We’ll move slowly. I saw something when the veil was torn away. Not the past. The future. We’ll talk more, but you three have to go.”

  She gave Ymir a little push and he left with the book, with Lillee, and with Tori.

  Della didn’t pause. She raced back up to her alcove office and surveyed the wine bottle, the glasses, the bowl of pastries that had gone uneaten. She felt scalded by the night’s events, burned, corrupted beyond redemption.

  And she knew there had been a murder in Four Roads, an event that had set something in motion. Was the assassination in Four Roads connected to the demon conqueror in Reytah or the dragon in Ethra? She didn’t know. Demons were real—she’d smelled one, and she’d seen one that very night. But dragons? No, they couldn’t exist. Then what would be attacking her school?

  Della let those thoughts and doubts and fears go. She shrugged off her robes. She couldn’t even wait to get to her room. She didn’t care that the sixth floor wasn’t private. Agneeyeshka, one of the soldiers who guarded the campus, would be around, and she might catch Della, but again, the Princept couldn’t care.

  She’d kept her vow. She hadn’t slipped down next to Lillee to lick the dwab’s pussy. She hadn’t ripped away Ymir’s pants to shove his cock into her. No, Della had kissed the three, touched them a bit, and then put on the Veil Tear Ring. The plan had worked perfectly.

  Sitting on the couch, Della’s gaze went from the peaks of her tits, down her flat belly, to the white hair of her pussy. She’d kept up the training after the Kurzig Durgha, and so she was lean and powerful.

  To reward herself, she spread her pussy, pushed a finger in, and then rubbed her juices on her clit. She pulled on her nipple, but missed a mouth to suckle her. Two mouths would be better. Lillee and Tori could’ve sucked on her tits while Ymir pounded her pussy.

  Della didn’t have her glass phallus, but she had the wine bottle.

  Those girls had been lascivious and wanton, even the little woman. Tori’s lust was more than a simple Inconvenience, it was an all-encompassing force within her. She went from moral and upright to a little slut. How exciting would it be to lose control like that? The experience must be both delicious and frightening.

  But Della could relate. She knew what it was like to be a slave to her own cunt.

  At that moment, the right thing to do would be to go up to her room to masturbate in private.

  But she wasn’t going to do the right thing.

  Besides, in her vision, she’d seen herself masturbating in the alcove.

  Della liked being out in the open. She liked the risk of being caught. And she licked and sucked on the neck of the wine bottle before working the slick glass up into her oheesy. She fucked herself for a few minutes, took a moment to suck her juices off the neck, and then filled herself with the bottle once more.

  She didn’t need to do this alone. She had Ymir and his wives. If she let herself fuck Ymir and his wives, she’d never be lonely again. She’d get the aggressive delights of the she-orc librarian, she’d get the talents of Jennybelle Josen, who had grown up being pleased by her handmaidens and servicing them in return. Then of course, there was Lillee and Tori, and Della had seen what those two could do.

  But what of Charibda?

  No, Della had slept with Charibda’s mother, so the Princept couldn’t do anything with the daughter, and yet, the merfolk were free thinkers when it came to their bitribibs.

  All those women, young and horny, were so tempting. The biggest temptation, though, was Ymir. His huge cock would feel so good inside her. He would fuck her so good and fill her with cum.

  The idea made Della orgasm. Her sex squeezed the warm glass of the bottle as she rode the pleasure emanating through her mind and body. After the buildup of the evening, the final release was violent and satisfying. It was lovely, completely lovely, and Della let the bottle drop from her sex, not caring if it broke on the carpet or not.

  It thunked to the ground and rolled onto the polished wood floor to go clattering into a bookcase, where a shadowy figure watched.

  Sarina Sia, dressed in a spidery gown, was watching silently. It was then that Della smelled her musk and perfume.

  “You’ve been so very quiet, Sarina,” the Princept said with a laugh. The mere idea that she found the specter so enticing and comforting should make her question her own sanity.

  Instead of answering, the ancient Princept faded away into the shadows.

  Only her laughter remained for a moment, and the words, “You are finding yourself, Honored Princept. Finally. After many years. You are finding yourself.”

  The irony was, Della felt that with every transgress
ion, she was losing herself more and more. She was afraid that soon, none of her would exist.

  Chapter Sixteen

  YMIR ONLY SLEPT A FEW hours.

  He slipped out of his home with the dawn still a smudge of light on the eastern horizon. He had his satchel heavy with the book Della had found with her vision. The Arboris Almaris Almanac: Farming, Sorcery, and Visions of a Better World looked to be as dull as it was thick. He’d tried to suffer through other almanacs before, and they were always out-of-date and provincial, though their homespun wisdom sometimes appealed to him. They reminded him of Grandmother Rabbit and Grandfather Bear.

  He’d only read a bit of the introduction before going to sleep, and it had certainly helped with that. While he should’ve tried to sleep more, he liked getting up early on Saturdays when the rest of the campus was still in bed.

  The night before was still fresh in his mind. After their intense encounter with Della, Tori hadn’t allowed them to wait until they got back to the Zoo. The dwab had pulled them into one of the kitchen’s storage rooms where the three had sex. Ymir loved seeing Lillee naked on a sack of flour with her legs open wide. Tori licked her while Ymir fucked the wide little woman.

  Tori had asked for some ass play—the encounter with the fairy had put all sorts of ideas into the heads of his women. He still thought fondly of that night with Lillee. All of his ptoor had wanted to try out the fairy’s very interesting ideas on sex.

  But Ymir didn’t want to think of Ziziva. Yes, they had issues with their business, and he had plans to address that. He also had plans to visit Charibda later that day, to talk with her, and to talk to Damnation Sue about his xoca beans problem. He also wanted to set up a meeting with Salt Love and Sambal, the smugglers out of the Scatter Islands. He hoped to get more information on whatever was happening on the southern continent.

  He walked by the Chapel of the Tree, which would be filled the next day with the religious. Today, only a few scholars were there praying. He followed the familiar path by the Moons Tower, where he was taking half his classes. That soaring tower always made him think of Siteev Ckins and his first year at the school. So much has changed since then. He’d fully embraced the magic he’d been cursed with. Or had he been blessed? Della certainly thought he was.

  No, the Lonely Man, the demon thing, had wanted to curse him. Ymir remembered the thing’s final words: I curse you. I curse you forever. Let the sleeper wake from the dream.

  Ymir didn’t know what that meant yet, but he was confident all would be made clear.

  He took the back way into the feasting hall. Already, the kitchen staff was preparing the morning’s breakfast. They had the big urns of kaif already brewed. Ymir poured himself a large mug. Tori was in no condition to work, and so before she went to bed, she sent word to the kitchen staff that she wouldn’t be in.

  The woman who ran the kitchen took it well since Tori was very reliable, worked harder than everyone else, and didn’t need to work at all. The dwab was probably the richest scholar in the school, outside of Ymir, of course. Selling xocalati, and especially the Amora Xoca, was very profitable. When they’d added sweet cream, and their line of kaif drinks, it had only made him wealthier. He’d had to open an account with the Undergem Guild in StormCry to hold his fortune.

  As he was getting his kaif, he heard someone ask to get flour from the storage room. After what had happened in there last night, Ymir had to grin. There were also whispers, rumors about a murder, though it was far, far away, in Four Roads, if the gossip could be believed.

  Ymir took his mug and books up to his table on the second floor of the Librarium. At this point, no one in the entire school dared sit there.

  He got to work, sipping his kaif while it was hot, then gulping it down once it got cold.

  This Enjambin Fannrilk had an elevated sense of himself. He promised that his book could be used to unravel the secrets of the universe as well as to grow better crops. It also guaranteed better marriages, happier wives, and more obedient children.

  Speaking of wives, Jennybelle Josen came in with an extra mug of the bitter black fluid and sat down. She’d made a half-hearted attempt to do her hair, but the result was a lot of frizzy darkness. She was pale and obviously not feeling well because of her escapades the night before.

  In fact, she didn’t have the energy to drink her kaif. She let her head drop to the table as her hair fanned out in a dark halo.

  Ymir took her offered mug and sat back in his chair. More scholars had come into the library, murmuring about something, that same something that the breakfast staff had been gossiping about.

  He enjoyed the hot drink, the bitterness, the richness. Then he spoke. “I’ve enjoyed much of the debauchery of these depraved southlands, but I would say kaif might be my favorite of the luxuries. Perhaps even more than the xocalati. Of course, though, I enjoy your sweet kisses the most, Jennybelle Josen. Kisses of all kinds, I suppose I should say.”

  Jennybelle moaned. “Gatha warned me about the ippa. Why didn’t I listen to her? I thought my swamp hooch was as strong. I didn’t know the ippa was poison.”

  “And yet, here we are.”

  Jennybelle finally lifted her head, gripped her coffee, and blew some of the heat off it. She’d painted her nails for the night before, and they were bright red and alluring. Her eyes, though, were her gift—though she wasn’t feeling well, they still shone like sapphires. Against her dark hair, they made her beautiful. “Gatha’s snores woke me up. Then Lillee had to run to the bathroom to throw up. I think even Tori had a wild night. She was sleeping soundly when I left. And for her to miss work in the kitchen? Well, dang, that does raise the eyebrows, don’t it?”

  Ymir loved the lilt of her voice. Jennybelle’s Pidgin grammar had that lovely Swamp Coast accent. He’d teased her when they’d first met. They’d had such a fun little dance. But he was glad those days were behind him. Now he could both relax into their love and attend to the business of the day, which was crafting demonic rings of ultimate power.

  Ymir levelled his gaze at the woman. “I’m surprised to see you up so early. When I left you were sleeping.”

  “Before the snoring, the puking, and Tori being home. On a Saturday morning. Which is very strange.” Jennybelle sighed and her eyes filled with tears. “Last night was awful. In the Unicorn’s Uht, before I passed out, Darisbeau told me about his and Arribelle’s plans to bring the Swamp Coast queendoms under one queen. He went on and on about the arranged marriages, the murder, the intimidation. I hated him and Arri for being so good at it. And I hated that I wasn’t a part of it. Then I was grateful I was done with all those evil bitches. Only, for a second, I wanted that life back. I even fucking missed Auntie Jia for a second.” She sighed. “I am fucked up, Ymir. Then there’s the news that’s only gonna complicate things.”

  “News of murder.” Ymir nodded.

  Jennybelle squinted her eyes shut. She laughed, but that wasn’t surprising because Jennybelle could always hide her emotions, or try to. Ymir had gotten good at seeing through her mask.

  “Who’s dead?” he asked.

  Jenny didn’t answer. “If Arribelle becomes queen of the whole damn swamp, I’ll fucking kill her. I’ll roast her and feed her to Darisbeau Cujan, and you’ll help me. We’ll rule that whole coast. Better us than Arribelle. Did I mention she’s as cruel as she is stupid? Daris and Nelly are gonna be the real power there. They won’t kill Arri. They won’t need to.”

  Ymir didn’t know if he wanted conquest, but if Jennybelle wanted an empire, he’d give her one.

  Jenny touched her eyes to keep the angry tears at bay.

  There was such a thing as angry crying, which baffled Ymir. However, the emotional lives of his wives did make things interesting, if a little trying at times. He assumed the murder was someone from the Swamp Coast, but he didn’t ask. He’d get the truth in time. For now, he wanted to try to make the dark-haired beauty feel better. “Let’s not be hasty, Jenny. Talk of conquest and actual conqu
est are two different things. We’ll see how far those fuckers get. Arri and Daris aren’t married yet. And who knows? Nelly might kill them both, though she doesn’t have the Josen blood, so that could splinter the entire region even further.”

  Jenny shrugged. “Maybe. But I doubt it. The Josens and the Cujans coming together changes the game, and Nelly knows that.”

  “And why does all of this disturb you? We have our life here. We have our love. And we have power.”

  Jennybelle laughed a little, cried a little, but only a single tear dribbled down her face. “Like I said, part of me is sad I’m not in the mix. And a part of me is fucking grateful.”

  “Torn apart from the inside.” Ymir knew how that felt. “Grandmother Rabbit was a woman of two minds, one full of worry, and one at peace. Her worries would frustrate my grandfather. He’d say, ‘Women always walk under a sky about to rain no matter what the weather is.’”

  Jenny’s kaif had cooled enough for her to sip it. “And you men don’t care about the weather as long as you have a full belly and an empty nut sack. Rain or shine, you fuckers follow your cocks.”

  Ymir reached out, grabbed Jenny’s hand, and squeezed. “Enjoy the sunshine of this day, Jennybelle. Today we are at Old Ironbound. Today you and I are in love, and we have the love of many fine women. I’m going to see Charibda tonight. There, we have worries. What Arribelle and her fucking husband-to-be are doing doesn’t matter unless they interfere with us.”

  Jenny grew peaceful, and he saw the change. He let go of her hand and said nothing.

  Jenny sighed. “You’re right. I chose you as my family. I chose you as my way forward. Once we finish the rings, once we finish this school, then we’ll get ourselves an empire. Our family is our future. And maybe we’ll take a trip down south.”

  “Do you want palaces and finery?” he asked.

  Jenny touched her hair as if primping. “Of course. Now, tell me about last night.” She lowered her voice and leaned forward. “How was kissing our Princept?”

  Before she could answer, the Princept herself walked over. She was just coming down from her apartment five floors above. Della Pennez had hidden their night’s activities well—her short white hair was perfect, her robes clean. However, there were dark circles under her eyes and a certain dullness to them.