Barbarian Outcast (Princesses of the Ironbound Book 1)

by Aaron Crash

  "It is an option," Jenny muttered. "I will consider it." In her heart, though, she knew she'd never go through with it. Such a sadness filled her. She'd never felt so weak.

  A stronger, more cynical thought hit her. Without Ymir, she herself could complete the quest for the Black Ice Ring. She would craft a Focus ring so powerful that she'd pass every test, and then she could collect the other rings, until her magic was so powerful she could do whatever she wanted.

  That made her equally sad. She'd have power, maybe enough to create her own queendom. She could walk through the Cujans and destroy them, and take over every single one of their counties. She would be queen, and she wouldn't have to wait to do it. She'd be melancholy for the rest of her life, yes, but she’d also rule.

  And Nelly would rise with her. Like most women of the Swamp Coast, Nellybelle Tucker wasn’t a stranger to plans, ploys, and diabolical plotting.

  An idea dawned on Jenny. “Hey, Nelly, not to change the subject, though indeed we are changing the fucking subject, but you ain’t never heard of the Akkiric Rings, have you?”

  Nelly made a face. “That have anything to do with the Akkridorian Empire? Sounds like it, now don’t it?”

  “Maybe.” Jenny watched her friend’s face closely. “But you know, the double ‘k’ was common during the Age of Discord and goes back to the Theranae Union.”

  “Back to the Age of Union.” Nelly had to show she knew it all, and she probably did. The girl was smarter than she first appeared. “Something is coming back to me, about a ring of ice, or a ring of fire. Sure, I read about them at some point.” Nelly laughed lightly. “Are you looking for a new piece of jewelry, Jenny?”

  The swamp princess searched Nelly’s eyes for some trace of a shadow or a lie. If Ymir lost his dusza, he’d have no reason to stay at Old Ironbound. The Lover’s Knot might not work as well. Then again, it might work better since he had no magical defenses. It was impossible to know.

  Nelly winked at her, a mysterious grin on her face. Was she daring Jenny to ask? Or did she know all about their project to build the ring?

  Ymir and Lillee sat down at an empty place across the room.

  Jenny’s eyes went to them, and Nelly laughed. “Go on and sit with them. I know you want to.”

  The swamp princess glared at her friend. “What I do, I do for the good of the queendom, bitch. Don’t you ever fucking forget it.”

  She swept herself away from the other Swamp Coast girls.

  Jenny chatted with Ymir and Lillee until they had to hustle off to the Flow magic class with Professor Leel.

  The haughty Ohlyrran professor took them outside into the courtyard, where the sun continued to shine. Daris and Odd were a bit late since they had to rush from work study to breakfast to class. Both didn’t look at Ymir if he was paying attention them. If he wasn’t, the two boys glared him like they wanted to cut the clansman into pieces, salt the meat, and then devour him with onions. The two weren’t done with the clansman, not by a long shot. As for Roger the Viscount, he’d go along, since he seemed like a weak-willed follower. Jenny took note of it without taking her attention off her two friends.

  Professor Leel got the attention of the scholars with a steady glare. “Water is in the air, all around us, even when we think it is dry. This means that a Flow mage, at the height of their power, will always have a weapon at hand. I want you to pull the water from the air and then freeze it into an icicle. You can work together in groups for this assignment.”

  Nelly decided to help the Scatter Islands girl. She left Jenny alone with her friends, the clansman and the elf. They were her best friends, the Josentown princess realized. All the other swamp women deferred to Jenny in all matters. This was nice in an offhand sort of way, but in the end, unsatisfying.

  Jenny liked that Ymir wasn’t easily swayed, and neither was Lillee.

  “I’ll go first,” the swamp woman said. “Creating an icicle shouldn’t be that hard. Jelu jelarum.” She felt the power drain from her dusza as she summoned water into her palm. Soon her skin gushed until she turned the flowing water into ice. Not quite an icicle, but close enough, though she wouldn’t be able to stab anyone with it.

  Lillee went next, and the Sullied elf’s slender spike of cold was far more lethal. Both turned to Ymir.

  He frowned. “I’m dragging a bit today. So, this dusza nonsense, can I empty it completely?”

  “By casting spells?” Jenny asked.

  “That and other things. The clans believe that too much sex can deplete a man’s vitality. Does this work the same way?” He had an amused look on his face.

  Lillee blushed.

  “If you push yourself too far, you can damage your dusza, or even die,” Jenny replied. “Sleeping, resting, quieting the mind all help to restore ourselves. Sex, in and of itself, doesn’t have anything to do with magic. Or not magic as we understand it.” The swamp princess noticed the smirk on Ymir’s face. Something seemed different about him.

  Then she knew. “You found someone else to celebrate sex with. I ain’t wrong, am I?”

  “You aren’t. I have.” Ymir’s smile showed his satisfaction. “Though she wants to keep it a secret.” He raised his eyebrows. “You aren’t jealous, are you?”

  “No, of course not.” Good thing Jenny was good at lying.

  Ymir steadied himself. “Jelu jelarum.” He rose a couple inches off the ground. His eyes were the bluest of sapphires on fire. He grimaced and spat out, “Jelu inanis.” He dropped back to the stones.

  Jenny clapped. “You’ve learned something. At least you can stop the magic.”

  He knit his brows and shook his head. He danced a bit, as if getting limber, and then he raised his fists. “Jelu jelarum.”

  This time he didn’t float, but soon water misted around his fists, up his arms, and he was soaking, a veritable waterfall spilling onto the courtyard.

  He then growled and turned the water around his right fist into ice, an ice spear to be precise. It wasn’t frozen to his hand, like Jenny’s ball of frost. He stepped and threw the spear against the wall, where it shattered.

  All the other scholars stopped to stare.

  Professor Leel pushed her way forward. “Very good, Ymir, or so you think. I didn’t ask for a spear. I asked for an icicle. The First Exam is only three weeks away. The testing is very precise. You would have failed.”

  “I won’t fail.” He lifted his chin. “I will pass this test.”

  “Your Courtly Manners and Arts professor might disagree. You haven’t gone to that class, but you will be quizzed on the material. I suggest you change your ways, or we might not have the pleasure of your company much longer.” The Ohlyrran professor didn’t hide her sneer.

  Ymir appeared not to care. “When I pass, Professor, and I will pass, I will go to this Harvest Festival, and I will dance with you, if you dance at all.”

  The elf teacher stiffened. “I will dance. But never with you.” She walked away to help other scholars.

  Ymir went to say something but stopped himself. He grinned, and Jenny read into the smile. So, this secret affair he’d had seemed to have been with a professor. Who? Only one made any sense. Siteev Ckins. She and the clansman had been exchanging heated glances for weeks. That was a very interesting turn of events, but it also angered Jenny.

  It should be her. Jenny should be the one to find herself under the barbarian, pulling him into her so she could enjoy his thrusting.

  Ymir tried to fling the rest of the ice off his fist, but it was frozen there. He whispered another spell, and the ice turned to water and dripped off him.

  The clansman was learning magic quickly.

  That night, after dinner, Jenny found Ymir in the Librarium, in his favorite place on the second floor, with a view of the Princept’s desk. He was reading an introductory tome to the old Akkridorian customs of grace and politeness.

  She pulled up a wooden chair and sat. “Where’s Lillee?”

  “Not sure.” The clansman turne
d a page and read a few sentences before leaning back to take her in. “She sometimes likes to walk the beach alone to sing as loud as she wants. Or she might be in her cell, drawing. You’ve seen her sketches. More than that, I think she likes the quiet. It helps her.” His eyes were brown as he took Jenny in. “You want to talk to me. So talk.”

  She nodded, a little unsure of herself. She’d never felt so off-balance. “What do you plan on doing with your life away from the Black Wolf Clan?”

  “The way is not clear,” Ymir said. “I’m focused on the work of the day. I have money. I don’t have work study. I plan on passing the First Exam, and I plan on creating the Black Ice Ring. Either way, I will need it. Are you still keen on helping?

  Jenny suddenly didn’t like his arrogance, and she loathed the idea he’d been sleeping with someone other than Lillee. It seemed natural for him and the Sullied elf to be together. Anyone else? No, the lust might turn into love.

  “I do want to help.” The words were easy for the Josentown princess to say. She wasn’t sure if she meant them or not.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  THE HONORED PRINCEPT Della Pennez walked through the Illuminates Spire at the top of the Librarium Citadel. Every wall was covered by bookshelves full of books and scrolls. Seven stone slabs sat in the middle of the room. Each slab was honeycombed with compartments, all locked with secret keys.

  Getting to the Illuminates Spire required passage through the Princept’s Chambers, and even if someone managed to get up there, getting the key to the compartments was all but impossible.

  The bookshelves didn’t have the lightning to keep the iron bindings free of rust—these books didn’t need it. Some writhed with a green flame. Other works were iced over, their secrets encased in cold. Still other grimoires whispered madness. Della knew to keep her distance from those tomes, or she’d find herself opening them without meaning to. The worst ones would take her over. There were scrolls as well, rolled up and tied closed with any number of materials. One scroll, she knew, was bound with human skin.

  In the nearly thousand years since Old Ironbound became a university, a few burglars had managed to break into the Illuminates collection. All had been caught. All had been killed. The central citadel had been built as a fortress. It served that purpose admirably.

  Della was having her evening glass of wine as she perused the shelves, thinking. She’d had a Flow dream that both excited and troubled her. She’d summoned Siteev Ckins to come up for a chat. As the Studia Dux of the Moons College, Siteev had access to the Illuminates.

  A bell jingled. The Princept pulled a lever near the stairs leading down to her apartment. The door below opened, and footsteps echoed until Siteev emerged from the stairwell. She was dressed in her Moons robes over a lacy black dress. White lace decorated the tops of her black boots. Her coral golem would wait for her at the top of the Coruscation Shelves.

  “Hello, Della,” Siteev said. “I hope you have a glass of wine for me. Prepping for the First Exam is always so wearying.”

  “Perhaps after we speak, I can get you a glass from my apartment. I think you need to be sober for what we have to discuss.” Della thought that sounded ominous. She was glad. When it came to Ymir, she wanted everyone on edge.

  Siteev pretended she was innocent. “And what do we have to discuss? The year is going smoothly, is it not?”

  “Smoothly enough,” Della said. “The four examiners will come from Kreenn if the Weeping Sea cooperates.”

  The two women stood at the center of the spire, in the open space between the seven stone slabs. A mosaic of the vempor, Aegel Akkridor, lay under their feet.

  Siteev sighed. “Kreenn, my old home. Examiners from Melancholia University won’t go easy on our scholars.” The woman’s eyes went to a special bookshelf against the north wall. That was where they kept the books for creating magic items, items which were too powerful for most mages to wield successfully. Della knew the shelf well. Did Siteev?

  First things first, the Princept wanted to discuss the problem at hand. “I know about you and the clansman.”

  Siteev opened her mouth to protest.

  Della silenced her. “This is nothing new. If you keep it discreet, we should have no issues. If your affair gets out, it will damage your reputation with the Alumni Consortium. Sleeping with scholars, especially imprudens, is frowned upon, but it’s not forbidden.”

  Siteev colored some as she smiled. “And that’s why it’s sweet. I assure you, Ymir will not say anything, and neither will I. How did you find out?”

  “A Flow dream,” Della said softly.

  The professor laughed. Nervously? Maybe. “I would quote our barbarian. Fucking magic.”

  “Yes, magic can be a two-edged sword. Regardless, in my dream, I saw you and Ymir on the AngelTeeth Islands, making love. You seemed to be enjoying yourself.” Della swirled the wine in her glass.

  “I’ve never slept with any other scholar, and I doubt I ever would again,” Siteev said. “You and I both know we have found ourselves in a unique situation. I gave in to the temptation.”

  “I might have done the same if I were in your place.” Della joined the Moons teacher in smiling. “From what I saw, the man does have some girth to him. And he burns with passion. However, I wanted you to know that I know.”

  Siteev nodded. She didn’t speak. And she wasn’t laughing.

  The Princept continued. “What do you think his chances are for passing the First Exam?”

  Siteev jumped on the change of conversation. “I’m sure you’ve spoken with Issa Leel. He has prodigious amounts of power, but he struggles with control. That might be his downfall. As for my class, he has a sharp mind and is gifted with languages. He is unique in many ways. Some might say Thera was blessed that he came down from the North.”

  “What do you say?”

  “He’s dangerous, and we have to watch him. Rarely have I seen a scholar with so many natural gifts, but he is not of Thera. His ideas of order and chaos are not our own. That makes him dangerous.”

  “So why risk yourself to come so close to him?” For Della, this was the heart of the matter.

  Siteev took a while to answer. “I could say I was tempted. I’ve been tempted before. If there were more men, if I had a husband, I believe I could think more clearly. Since that is not the case, I am left to deal with my own desires in isolation.”

  Della frowned at the professor. She was equivocating. “So why give in to temptation this time?”

  “To get closer to him,” Siteev said. “To know him. If he is to change Thera, to disrupt these years of peace, I needed to see what kind of man he is. Nothing brings two people together quite like sex. So I do have an agenda.”

  “These years of peace,” Della echoed. “So you believe the Age of Isolation shouldn’t end?”

  The professor shrugged. “Other than a few rogue orcs and the endless squabbling of the Swamp Coast queendoms, we have enjoyed centuries of quiet trade and study. You know your history. Thera has been spattered with blood before. Wars, despots, conquerors...the Age of Withering that destroyed men of all races, except for the dwarves, of course. In isolation, the races have prospered. So no, I don’t think we should welcome a new age and the chaos it might bring.”

  “Rumor has it the Midnight Guild believes in such things.” It was dangerous to say, and Della had to be careful. “You aren’t a member, are you?”

  Siteev’s grin mocked her. “If I were, would I really tell you, Honored Princept? But no, my only allegiance is to the Majestrial, and to my own happiness. I believe this secret affair will make me very happy.”

  That was the answer Della expected. She wanted to make sure Siteev understood that the Princept wasn’t a fool no matter how foolish believing in idle trade gossip was. “I’ve received many sand letters concerning the possibility of a Midnight Guild, and their desire to keep the status quo. The legitimate guilds maintain they would know about a secret organization. I have my doubts. It could be t
he guilds themselves are involved. If so, they would deny any knowledge.”

  “Do you want things to change, Della?” the professor asked.

  It was curious that Siteev would address her by her first name. “Change is inevitable,” the Princept said. “Peace is fleeting. But, no, I don’t relish welcoming in a new age. It’s my job to keep my university safe and stable. I do not want Ymir to lead a united barbarian horde, wielding magic, down into Thera to create his own empire. That is the fear, and I believe it is a healthy fear. We both know Ymir is kingly; you, far more than I. Perhaps this affair can benefit us.”

  The light of understanding gleamed in Siteev’s eyes. “So, I am to spy on Ymir?”

  The Princept shrugged. It was a question she wasn’t going to answer. If Siteev could have her spies, Della could have hers. The Moons professor did seem to know everything that went on at the Majestrial.

  Siteev wisely didn’t answer her own question about being a spy. Yet, the two had an understanding. “You are right, Princept. I’ve never met a man with so much promise. He’s been blessed with strength, cunning, and magic. Put the three together, and they are a powerful combination. The only thing he lacks is the ambition to conquer. For now, he is young and distracted, but I could see a time when he would bristle at being bound by the chains of our civilization. And he is an outcast from his own people. If he were to go north with a vision of conquest, that might bring him fame, and the clans would gather around him. By the Tree, the barbarians just might want a land that didn’t freeze their testicles off. And that, Princept, is why many would want to see him dead.”

  “Princept? Not Della?”

  Siteev smiled. “It’s Della when we’re talking about sex. It’s Princept when we are talking about an invasion that might slay millions and disrupt a civilization that so many have fought so hard to build.”

  The two women stared into one another’s eyes. Della felt the attraction. She wasn’t a stranger to the delights of bedding other women, though it had been a long time since a lover had put her delightful stink on her. It might be time to bring up a special consultant from Four Roads. The Princept was never going to sleep with one of her own professors.