by Aaron Crash
He’d been on the edge for what seemed like an eternity. Now, all of that pent-up energy hit at once. He felt his throbbing shaft spew into the woman under him, over and over, the heaven in his mind matching the convulsions in his body. Just when he thought his orgasm was over, a fresh feeling would take him away, and new seed would go splashing into the fertile womb of the fairy.
Over and over and over.
And he wasn’t alone. His grunts of pleasure were matched by squeals from the fairy, which echoed the orgasmic sighs of the mermaid.
For one insane second, Ymir thought he might never stop coming. Then, each spasm lessened, until finally, they were freed from the unending pleasure.
Ribby slid off the girl, grew legs, and laid next to them. The fire had burned to coals. Ymir, still inside the fairy, bent down and kissed Ziziva. He smelled and tasted the salty sex of the Aquaterreb princess on the fairy girl’s face. Ymir had been shrinking, but that salty kiss had him hard again.
Ribby joined them in kissing, laughing a little. “Holding you both back for so long wore me out, but then I was given the energy back. Let’s see the result.” She eased Ymir’s stick out of the petite woman’s honeypot.
Ymir had expected a river of his seed to come spilling out, but there was no sign.
Ribby looked up, also confused.
Ziziva giggled. “My little honeypot is holding all of Ymir’s honey now, and she’s greedy, so greedy. I can feel it. The glimmer has started, and where it will lead, I don’t know, can’t know, won’t know until the glimmertime comes, and then the wogglesparks, and then the love, love, love.”
Ymir wasn’t exactly sure what all that meant, but Ziziva was clearly happy, and that was all that mattered.
Ribby licked her way down the fairy girl’s body until she had her face nuzzling the wet sex of the fairy girl. The mermaid threw Ymir a look. “She calls her pussy a honeypot, but I want to see just how sweet it really is.”
The mermaid then sucked his sex into her mouth.
Ziziva had turned her head to the side and was licking Ribby’s thigh when the mermaid shifted so once again her sex was on the fairy girl’s mouth. The mermaid then let his cock drop to lick the fairy, though she had to hunch her body up since Ribby was so much taller than Ziziva.
Ymir wasn’t done with the mermaid’s mouth just yet. He grabbed her hair and pulled her away from the fairy so she could suck on him some more.
These two women weren’t done yet, far from it, and Ymir swore he wouldn’t leave until he’d satisfied both of them completely. Such a task might take all night, but what was sleep compared to this erotic spectacle?
With the first rays of the new day glowing in the window, Ymir left Ribby sleeping in her mermaid’s net bed. Ziziva had already flown back home to her little apartment in The Paradise Tree.
The crashing waves wet the air, though at least it wasn’t raining. The morning fog had come in thick—he couldn’t see StormCry, nor Vempor’s Cape.
Alone, Ymir went back to his boat. The xoca beans had spent the night under tarps so they were dry, and he moved them to shelves in Damnation Sue’s storage room. When he had more help, he’d take them to the Amora Annex, in the Sea Stair Market. The Amora Annex, above Gatha’s erotica library, was both kitchen and warehouse for their xocalati business.
With the long night of loving over, and his morning chores finished, Ymir oared away from the lighthouse island.
He planned to sleep for most of the day.
Ymir finally saw the muted lights of the Sea Stair Market. Then the Sunfire torches on the hidden docks came into view. They’d been lit because of the poor visibility.
Ymir was almost to the docks when something above him caught his eye.
There was a flash of heat as fire appeared up there, on the top part of the Flow Field.
There was a winged monster clutching the upper ramparts of the arena, something long and large with huge wings. From its fanged mouth erupted flames that cut through the thick morning fog.
The dragon had come to Old Ironbound.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
YMIR OARED PAST THE docks until he was perpendicular with the dragon.
The clansman gazed up at the beast atop the cliffs. It was fifty feet long, lean and muscled, with a long tail that ended in a spike. Its leathery wings were folded on its back. The scales were black with orange accents, as orange as its big orange head.
A black beard hung from the scales of its chin. Horns sprouted from its skull.
Even at a distance, Ymir could feel the heat and smell the thing, a spicy scent, sweet, like the spice swirl pastries that Tori baked. That sweetness was tempered by a smoky fragrance.
Ymir felt a thrill go through him—to see this no-longer-extinct monster made his heart pound.
Ymir gave his oars a final pull, and his boat went over a swell, and he oared up to the beach. He jumped out with the bow rope over his shoulder. He drew it up onto the sand.
Then he cast the Moons spell. “Caelum caelarum.” He floated off the sand and armed himself. “Jelu armatus!” The words created an icy battle ax.
At the same time, Ymir prodded the thing with his Yellow Scorch Ring. Such heat, such a marvelous inferno, burned within the beast. And with the Crystal Null Ring, Ymir could sense the massive power of its soul. Not a dusza—this core was unique, something different, something strange. He had never felt such a spirit. It was as if this thing burned with a red sun inside its scales.
Ymir used the Winter Flame to create a platform of ice connecting him to the edge of the arena. He covered the landing with crunchy snow so his boots wouldn’t slip.
At the same time, Ymir was ready to drop his ice ax and throw spears of cold into the dragon. It must be sensitive to cold, being a creature of fire. Ymir thought that might give him the advantage.
The dragon drew back to consider Ymir. The scales around its eyes looked scorched. The eyes themselves were the color of hot flame—orange, yellow, and red.
The dragon spoke in a grand voice, loud, reverberating through the foggy morning air. “The barbarian with magic. The clansman with a soul. Where have you been, barbarian? Fucking your many women? Or delving into magic you shouldn’t? Or perhaps seeing if you can get Della Pennez into your bed? I would suggest it. Rumor has it the Princept has a passion that would put a Sullied elf to shame. You could confirm the gossip since you have a Sullied elf in your bed most nights.”
It spoke Pidgin with a strange accent.
Ymir would talk with it, but he would also test its limits. “The Princept does not fuck scholars. Otherwise, I would have had her already. As for my women and their habits, that is their business and mine. Beware, dragon, trifle with me all you want. Touch my women and you die.”
The beast laughed fire. “Oh, to be threatened by this little man, this little human. I am a creature of the eons, Ymir, son of Ymok. I am a creature of the game, and the game has never been more interesting. I was in the game before your ancestors were born, and I will be in the game after you are gone. But there are things I need at this school. There are things you will do for me, whether you know you will or not. Already, I smell the stink of fairy pussy on you. That is a good start. You have no idea.”
“I would expect fairy pussy to be rather rare, given the reality of a few things. But you smell sweet. Perhaps you ate a bakery this morning.” Using the Crystal Null Ring, Ymir carefully accessed the dragon’s strange orb of energy spinning inside it. He tried to siphon off a bit of the power.
“Magica incanto!” the dragon roared. The Crystal Null Ring burned on Ymir’s hand, and he wasn’t able to grab any of that energy. Ymir’s ice platform shattered into fragments. Ymir lost his ax. His Moons levitation spell was also gone.
The dragon launched itself off the edge of the Flow Field arena, crushing stone and scattering seats. Ymir saw the claws coming before they ripped into him, and he went to throw ice into the creature, only the dragon didn’t stab him to kill him. The dragon
seemed to want to save him from the fall to the beach.
The wings thumped as they filled with air, and Ymir was taken out above the ocean waves. He thought about using the rings to fight the dragon, but the reality was the beast could’ve killed him and didn’t. More than slaying the worm, he wanted to see what it wanted.
The dragon banked and flew back to the shore. It dropped Ymir onto the sand next to his boat.
Ymir stood, not letting the pain of his wounds show.
The dragon landed in the water, big enough that the surging waves bothered him none. “Your magic is powerful, granted, and you are dealing with forces that would make even me pause. Why do you think I started the Midnight Guild?”
That was a surprise, but Ymir didn’t give the beast any kind of reaction.
The dragon still laughed, knowing that it had possibly revealed too much. “But don’t worry, Ymir. I’m not playing the Midnight Guild game anymore.”
Ymir didn’t point out that between him and Della, they’d beaten the Midnight Guild on many occasions. Instead, he asked, “And who are you?”
Fire joined the beast’s chuckles. “I’m not about to give you a name. And I’ve given you hints aplenty. You have your Flow magic, and I have Magica divinatio spells. You’ve seen me in the future, and I’ve seen you. When the time comes, you will give me the fruits of your labor, and I will bear fruit myself, finally. Finally, I’m free to sow the seeds I bear. For the Shadows of Teeth and Talon are gone. One thing left, one final piece, in something that is not the game. Something that is...” The dragon snorted fire. Its strange burning eyes looked far beyond Ymir. The great beast was thinking of something that troubled it. “Something that is personal. For me. For my own lineage. All the true dragons are gone, and I alone remain. But I won’t be alone for long.”
Ymir felt the blood trailing down his body and into his shoes. His cura magic was iffy at best. If he didn’t get to the doctor soon, he might lose consciousness and bleed out.
The dragon snorted flames and smiled. “Look at all that blood, barbarian. You can scarcely stand. Let me help. Magica Cura.”
Ymir felt the wounds healing, and it was quick, painful in a way, and then the dragon breathed out ice spears in a wind of cold.
“Jelu jelarum!” Ymir drew forth his own protection from the wet air around him.
Ice spears clattered off his ice wall. However, the freezing air swirled around his rampart to cover him in frost. It made Ymir think of the killing winds to the north. He winced at the pain of cold damaging his skin. Any exposed skin had turned completely white.
“I can heal, Ymir,” the dragon laughed. “And I can kill, with fire, ice, and other such things. Deal well with me, and I will be fair. Try to betray me, and your little story will end, which would be a shame, since you are a mighty piece that might be used in any number of games. Find a way to finish your task, and once you finish, I will know. I will come for it. Give me what I want, and I will leave you in peace.”
Ymir used the Yellow Scorch Ring to heat the amwabs of his skin and clothes. The frost covering him melted away. His flesh was back to being pink, yet the memory of the pain made Ymir pause. “I can guess what you want. Perhaps we can make a trade. I’ve heard tell dragons can alter flesh. I have a mermaid who can’t breathe on land. Do you have magic to fix her?”
“Perhaps.” The dragon opened its mouth and lightning leapt out, crackling through the air and hitting the cliff face behind Ymir. Boulders fell to plunk onto the sand, making the ground shake. “But I am far too powerful for trades. And in the end, your mermaid will die, as you will. I’ve seen the future. You, your women, this place, all doomed. You will not make the right decision when the time comes, Ymir, son of Ymok. With me, you will. But with what is coming? Your own pride, arrogance, and despair will destroy you.”
The dragon came running forward out of the waves. It leapt over Ymir, dug its hind claws into the cliff, and went soaring off over the ocean. A second later, it breathed out a circle of fire. Then the dragon went through the circle and was gone.
It was powerful portal magic. What was this thing? And why did it want one of the rings Ymir was to forge?
If the dragon had desired any of the existing Akkiric Rings, it would’ve tried to take them. No, this dragon wanted him to finish the task at hand.
Ymir smiled. It hadn’t said that it couldn’t fix his mermaid love. It said it thought the deal was beneath it. That gave Ymir hope.
He shoved his boat back into the water and rowed to the hidden docks. Once his watercraft was secure, he walked up the Sea Stair, deep in thought.
He would tell Della, yes, but he wanted to talk it over with his wives first. He also had to tell them about having sex with Ziziva. It was likely she was pregnant from their time together. At least the fairy girl thought she was.
It should be an interesting conversation, as interesting as his exchanging words with a legendary beast of considerable power.
The dragon had come to Ymir for the seventh Akkiric Ring. For a moment, he thought about seeing what Professor Linnylynn Albatross might think of the topic. But he didn’t trust that Williminaville woman.
No, only Della. She wasn’t in her mezzanine office, however. Ymir found himself relieved. He still had a lot to think about, and he wasn’t sure how much he should tell Della.
Ymir climbed the stairs to her desk, scrawled a note, and left it on her chair. They needed to talk. He made an oblique reference to a Willmur Swordwrite quote about a winged serpent. Few people would get it. Della would.
Was the dragon related to the demon conqueror on the southern continent? Ymir didn’t think so. It was more likely that the worm had come from Ethra, to the west. After hearing so many stories about dragons on the western continent, Ymir could only assume they were true.
Why else would ancient beasts be rising if they all didn’t want to rise together?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
YMIR WALKED INTO THE kitchen of the silent Zoo. Tori was working in the kitchen, but the rest of his ptoor were sleeping. Gatha was drinking less, staying in, so she could wake up early to train Ziziva. If the she-orc stayed home, so did Lillee, and Jennybelle didn’t want to miss out on anything.
Ymir went down the steps into his room and found his elf girl and the swamp woman locked in an embrace. He slipped off his boots, sat on the bed, and realized he wasn’t tired at all. He knew what would calm him—one of the most boring books ever written. He padded over to his satchel and removed his copy of The Arboris Almaris Almanac. He then returned to the kitchen.
Ymir thought about going over to the feasting hall, maybe give Tori a kiss, but he was enjoying the quiet of his apartment. And he was impatient for his harem to wake up. He had so much to tell the women.
Boiling water with the Yellow Scorch Ring was easy, and he soon had a big cup of steaming kaif. He took his drink and the book down into Ribby’s room at the bottom of the Zoo and found a place at her desk. Through the window, he could see the StormLight’s beam cutting through the misty morning. The fog might burn off, or it might start raining. Such was early winter on the northern Sorrow Coast.
Ymir considered the thick book in front of him. He went to the back page to feel at the seeds in the binding. It was strange that Gulnash hadn’t taken all of the seeds. Ymir thought of something else. Gulnash hadn’t just taken an interest in the Akkiric Rings, but he’d collected magical coins as well. He’d had a pouch full. One of the coins kept Gulnash from being scried. What could the others do?
Ymir went back to his room.
Jennybelle had shifted onto her back. Lillee slept with her leg thrown over the swamp woman. One of the elf maiden’s hands cupped one of Jenny’s big tits. Both were still out.
He found the pouch where he’d secreted the coins. He took them down to the almanac.
The coins looked to be made of a strange, silverish metal. They were old, and anything printed on them had long since rubbed away. There were only dirty lines in the d
ull metal that suggested there had been a face maybe, or the shape of a creature.
Could the seeds and the coins be connected somehow?
That almanac was a monstrous tome, several thousand pages all on thin onion paper with the ink fading. Reading it was a chore that not even Ymir would be able to manage, not before the end of the year. However, the dragon had revealed why it had come to Old Ironbound—the beast was waiting for Ymir to finish crafting the rings. But which one? There were two left. The seventh ring was called a variety of things: the Imitation Ring, the Giver Taker, the Bone Thief, the Flesh Steal. He had no name at all for the eighth.
Ymir thought for a second, then turned to the index, which only had a few listings. He turned to “D” for dragon. He opened to a section near the back, reading what Enjambin Fannrilk thought of dragons.
The author posited that dragons could be summoned from the night sky. You had to grow the right crops to draw them in, but you needed magical seeds and enchanted coins. And you had to grow the uncanny fruit in the most fertile of soil. Fannrilk had several warnings about the uncanny fruit—uncanny or forbidden—the meaning of the old Theranus word, Ventita, could mean both. Fructus meant fruit.
Fannrilk begged the reader to be careful about dragons because dragons only wanted to collect wives, build aeries, and hoard treasure. Dragons were more lustful than the elves, more battle-hungry than the orcs, more in love with gold than the dwarves. They loved their homes in the sky and filled them with wives. With children, however, there were issues. Dragons had trouble siring children, and hence, their numbers dwindled. All of the information had to be based on legends. During Fannrilk’s time, in the Age of Discord, there had been no dragons.