by Aaron Crash
Ymir yanked the ring off his finger. He felt the hot breath of the beast, smelled its bestial stink, and then both its heat and fetid odor vanished.
Ymir was back in the sea alley with the sunset darkening the skies. He carefully placed the Veil Tear Ring in its pouch. That had been close; if he put on the ring again too soon, the hellhound would rip him to shreds. Ymir adjusted the Black Ice Ring and spoke out the cantrip, “Jelu jelarum!”
He didn’t want to try sloshing through the water to get to the other side. He froze the water under the archway. Blue ice crackled across the surface of the flood and reached up the walls. If the hidden assassin had set another trap for him, he wasn’t going to walk right into it.
Ymir stepped up onto the ice. He then took a few tentative steps before he grew confident. He sprinted and slid across the frozen surface to the other side of the arch.
Hidden runes flashed on the wall. Yes, his first passage had primed the trap. His second had sprung it. The stones cracked and the whole structure shuddered. By the time the arch fell, Ymir had skated through to the other side and walked out of the dust cloud, coughing a little.
Another attempt on his life meant another visit to the Honored Princept. He didn’t think she’d be too excited to see him. At least he knew where she’d be. The Honored Princept would be at her desk on the mezzanine of the Librarium Citadel, dealing with the fallout of the day.
Chapter Fourteen
THAT NIGHT, YMIR SHOWERED, told his princesses everything, and then went to dinner. He ate quickly and alone.
The feasting hall was buzzing from the scholars all talking about the earthquake wave. Already, those students whose apartments were destroyed were finding other places to live. Many would wind up sharing space in the Zoo. The orc Flow scholar, Erigg Bloogg, would be one of them, but he was already spending most nights in Fryla Walker’s bed anyway.
Lillee gave her cell over to the dwarf in their sophists Flow class, Buck Minefinder. There weren’t many males at the school, fewer in the Flow, but Buck Minefinder was one, and he’d become friends with Erigg Bloogg despite the enmity between their races.
Once they cleared the ruined archway from the sea alley, Lillee had collected her artwork and had taken all of her art supplies to Jenny’s apartment. She was there now, with Jenny.
Tori was trying to pile people together in the Zoo, figuring out which closets were big enough to house displaced students. In some ways, the dwab was at her best in a crisis, dealing with people, trying to comfort them, and cooking for them. She’d brew a dozen pots of kaif as the homeless scholars sat in the Zoo’s kitchen, once again retelling the story of where they’d been when the earthquake wave hit.
As for Ymir, he sat at his table on the second floor of the Librarium and watched the endless train of scholars, professors, and staff visit the Princept. The wives of King Velis IX spent the longest in her office. The moustached man wasn’t there. Was he a coward hiding with his guards?
When the last person left, the Princept was free. Ymir had to be careful because Della didn’t know he’d crafted another Akkiric Ring. He muttered a spell to protect him from scrying before he walked down the steps to the first floor and then climbed up the stairs to the Princept’s mezzanine office. She shuffled through papers, wrote herself a note, and then adjusted more pieces of parchment—sand letters, by the look of them.
Ymir sat without being invited. “Someone tried to kill me again. In the sea alley, they used a lutum fascinara spell on the main archway. I’m lucky to be alive.”
Della laid a piece of paper down. She sat back and steepled her fingers. “How did you see it coming?”
“The Obanathy spells,” Ymir lied. “They are powerful. It’s a good thing they are in the Illuminates Spire.”
The Princept’s gray eyes regarded him coolly. “I wouldn’t tease me if you want my help. In the end, your death would simplify my life, especially in these times.”
“What did you see with your Flow magic?” Ymir asked. “Was it the merfolk that sent the wave?”
Della shrugged. “I don’t know, but it’s likely. I saw Professor Leel’s bravery. I saw that the wave rose up and over most of the cliffsides, which suggests that it wasn’t a natural occurrence. That explains why most of the buildings weren’t destroyed. And I saw a battle coming to this school. The citadel we’re in will be a fortress once more.” She paused, and the faintest grin came to her lips. “It’s interesting, Ymir. I can’t look into your problem if you keep yourself hidden with the Obanathy cantrips. Will you open your life to me?”
“You misunderstand me,” Ymir said. “I didn’t come here for help. I came here to let you know what happened because you are the Princept, and you needed to know there is a two-fang spider in your tent. I’m wondering if the assassin used the wave as a distraction. They set up the trap knowing I’d hurry down to check on my sea cell. And then they could blame the fallen archway on the wave as well. It would be a nice, tidy plan. And it would mean Marrib Delphino is blameless.”
Della sat, squinting, thinking. “Such a conspiracy would hide your assassin well. It’s an interesting proposition, though very elaborate. It would explain a few things, however.”
Ymir raised his eyebrows. “Tell me.”
“You want my secrets? Why should I tell you a thing? You’ve hidden yourself, and for all I know, you are continuing your work on your Akkiric Rings.” She let her words hang in the air.
Ymir let a slow smile come to his lips. “I still don’t know what the Black Ice Ring does, Princept. Besides, most of the books I need to craft more rings are beyond my reach, which is fine. What was the outcome of the meeting?”
“There won’t be a war for now,” the Princept said. “The Weeping Sea merfolk and the Sorrow Coast Kingdom agreed on several key trade agreements. It was all going well before the wave. After? I was relieved to hear that Marrib hadn’t pulled out of the deal. Neither had King Velis IX. And so, it was successful. That makes me wonder if you aren’t right. Was this about you?”
“I am very important,” Ymir joked. “In the end, I don’t think we’ll know right away. We’ll continue to be watchful. You and I are good at that.”
“And if I find a way to unravel the magic hiding you?” Della asked sardonically.
“Make sure you scry me at night,” Ymir answered. “You’ll get an eyeful of me and my princesses. They are beautiful, and you might like them more than me, given the heated looks between you and Beryl Delphino. Ribrib’s mother is a fine-looking woman.”
The Princept stiffened. She drew up a sand letter. “And this is where we end the conversation. I have a lot to do. The Alumni Consortium wants a full report. I have to alert Professor Leel’s relatives that she was hurt in the attack, though she’ll make a full recovery. Also, this entire region has been on edge. I will be glad we have peace for now.”
“For now,” Ymir agreed. “Though that will only last for so long. War is coming.”
Della shook her head. “Perhaps not. We saw merfolk on the grounds of Old Ironbound. That could mean any number of things. Perhaps your assassin came from the sea.”
“Or perhaps there is something at this school Marrib and his people want. Maybe something up in the Illuminates Spire. Anything come to mind?” Ymir asked the question in an attempt to catch Della off-balance.
The Princept’s reaction couldn’t be hidden. A blush rose up her chest. She kept her voice even. “Nothing comes to mind, Ymir. And I have a great deal of work to do. You best be careful. I’m growing accustomed to your presence.”
“And I’m enjoying our game, Princept. It does make my time at this school, learning this magic shit, interesting.” He stood, turned, and strode down the steps and across the school’s emblem on the floor of the Librarium, a diamond divided up into four quadrants showing the symbols of the Studiae Magica: a red-and-gold starburst, three white moons on a blue background, a clenched fist done in browns and greens, and an open palm, black against gray.
She stood when he got close. “By now, you’ve heard about Tori and me. I love her. You already have two lovers, and you don’t need a third. I want Tori for myself, and I won’t share.”
The clansman could hardly believe what he was hearing. “It’s been a very tumultuous day, Gatha. Let’s have this discussion at another time.”
“No!” she exploded. She tilted her head and took in a deep breath to calm herself. “No. You have love. I want love. I’ve found someone that I like, but I can tell that Tori thinks she only needs you and the other two.”
Ymir narrowed his eyes. “I am not Tori’s keeper. If you want to make a different kind of deal with her, that would be between you two. So why are we even speaking?”
Gatha moved up closer, face lifted. Her tusks snapped up through her lips. “We fight for Tori. If I win, you tell her to come to me when she is in Heat. If I lose, then you can have her during that time. Let’s let combat decide.”
“The situation can be far simpler than that,” Ymir said. “You can join us. The Gruul have their harems, their ptoor, so the idea isn’t strange to you.”
The she-orc shouted, “I am igptoor!”
Igptoor. Without family. Whatever Gatha had done during her time in Ssunash had left her alone. It had driven her from the Blood Steppes and to the library. But she’d chosen that. Both the rumors and Gatha’s own admission confirmed it.
The she-orc grabbed him by his robes and shoved him back.
Ymir allowed himself to be pushed from the library. There were people studying there, or simply talking quietly, and this drama might as well be done outside.
And if he was going to have it out with this strange green-skinned woman, he might as well do it out in the open. The wave had been taken care of and things had returned to normal. The taverns were open on the Sea Stair Market; laughter and kharo smoke drifted up from the Unicorn’s Uht.
Once outside, under a cloudy sky heavy with the smell of rain, Ymir shoved Gatha back. “Enough. What is it that you want from me? I am not Tori’s master. I’m not her husband. We’re friends, and when she needs me, I help her. Yes, you are igptoor, but that was your choice. Not mine. Not Tori’s.”
The she-orc’s red eyes flashed in the Sunfire torchlight. “What I am asking for is not unreasonable!”
Ymir laughed. “It is. Tori isn’t a trophy. And besides, we already fought. It was a draw.”
“Our next fight wouldn’t be. I’d win! I need this, Ymir. I need Tori.” Gatha reared back her fist to strike him.
Ymir ducked the punch and danced back. He put up his own fists. Rain spattered down across the cobblestones coming from the Sea Stair.
The she-orc shook off her robes to reveal her white tunic. Rain darkened the shoulders as well as Gatha’s white hair, tied back. She came forward. “We Gruul take what we want. I would take Tori, but her heart belongs to you. You can release her.”
She threw another punch, but Ymir blocked it and stepped back. He too got his robes off so she couldn’t use them against him. His leather shirt would offer some protection. “This is madness. I’ll fight you, but Tori will make her own choices. Can’t you see that?”
“All I see is a man who has tormented me for months on end. I see an enemy who stands between me and my desires. No magic. We fight until we can fight no more. The victor is the one left standing.”
“Even if you win, you won’t get Tori,” Ymir said.
“I’ll at least get the satisfaction of beating you senseless!” Gatha let out a shriek, throwing her fists and driving Ymir back, down the steps of the Sea Stair. He couldn’t let her have the high ground, and so he waited for an opening and took it. He punched her in the gut, but his fist bounced off the knotted muscles there. It did turn her so they fought on a landing. He’d stopped his retreat.
She grabbed him and kicked his legs out from under him. She was muscled, fast, and full of a mad rage, almost desperate. It was clouding her thoughts—it was also giving her almost preternatural strength.
Ymir lay on his back, with her on top. She slashed at him with her tusks.
Ymir got his arm up against her throat to keep those tusks from ripping up his face. The time for talking was over. He hooked her leg, bucked his hips, and then threw himself up and her off. He rolled over and got on top of her, forcing her arms down. He was heavier than she was, and a bit stronger, but she was like a writhing elk, kicking, cursing, and trying to cut him with those long white teeth jutting from her green lips.
“Enough!” Ymir roared. He had her arms pressed against the stone. The odor of their fight lingered around them, and he liked how it smelled. Gatha had always had a musky-sweet fragrance about her. And now that her blood was up, even with her tusks out she was beautiful in a savage way.
Yet she was troubled, so troubled. Lillee always said that the she-orc seemed lonely, with needs she didn’t know she had. That included love.
But the she-orc did everything she could to push everyone away. Except for Tori.
The she-orc shrieked and threw herself up against him, trying to wrestle herself away. Anyone else might’ve been thrown, but Ymir kept her pinned. If she wanted a fight, he would give her one.
Really, that was what she wanted: she wanted to fight until she had no more fight in her. Ymir could understand that. Sometimes it was nice to hit your limit.
Gatha got a knee up, and she rammed it into his thigh, missing his groin by inches. Getting kneed in his jewels might’ve ended the fight. However, the blow was enough to give Gatha a momentary advantage. She flung him down, and he rolled down the steps until he stopped himself.
He was up on his feet, fists up, just in time.
Gatha hurled herself down, knocking away an arm and trying to drive her knuckles into his face. He took the hit on his forehead. The punch hurt, but it didn’t stun him. He grabbed Gatha and flung her against the door of the Unicorn’s Uht. They’d fought their way down the stairs all the way to the Sea Stair Market.
The she-orc came forward with a scream. The door to the bar opened as scholars rushed out to see what the trouble was.
Ymir knew—he was fighting a deranged she-creature who couldn’t be reasoned with. He was going to have to win the fight. In the end, he knew it would come down to this. Gatha was never going to really respect him unless he defeated her in battle. It was the way of the Gruul. Even then, such a victory might not mean much. He’d beaten Gharam in a fight, and the old orc hadn’t been able to forgive him.
Gatha shoved Ymir back into the people. They parted to let him through. The she-orc stormed forward into the bar, letting her guard down for a second. She probably thought the shouts of surprise from the crowd would distract him. That wasn’t the case. The clansman saw the opening in her defenses. He punched her in the nose—it was a perfect strike, above her tusks, below her forehead. She took the hit full-on, not thinking for a second, and that mistake would cost her.
Crimson gushed from her nose, dribbling over her lips and coloring her tusks. If she didn’t look monstrous before, she did now. Her hair wild and wet from the rains, the tunic sticking to her body, her muscles pumped with blood, and those red eyes wild with battle lust—all of it made her look like a demon with blood gushing down her face and dripping onto her chest.
Standing in the tavern, covered in gore, she grinned at him. “You’ll have to do better than that, clansman. You’ll have to batter me unconscious.”
One of the owners, Melissa Teheregi, called out. “Get campus security here! Now!”
Kadie Gnal, the other bar owner, screamed at them. “Dammit, Ymir! I knew at some point, you would fuck up our place! Stop this now! Or you’ll pay twice for anything you break!”
Ymir ignored them both. He had less than five minutes before one of Gharam’s orcs showed up, probably Agneeyeshka, and then the fight would get even messier. If he didn�
��t win, and win decisively, his relationship with Gatha really would be over.
And the truth was, Tori would side with Ymir and the other princesses. Fucking Gatha would be left alone again, and that just might break her more than a good beating. He would have to pummel her to save her life.
It was a grim task, and a difficult one, because it could very well be that the she-orc would knock him senseless. It was by far the best fight he’d had since the Lonely Man. And thank the Axman, he didn’t have to use magic. It was all about his wit, speed, muscle, and skill.
Good. It had been too long since he’d been in a good, old-fashioned fistfight. He just hoped he didn’t lose the damn thing because there was no way that Gatha would ever relent.
Chapter Fifteen
THEY WERE CIRCLED BY scholars, drunks, and some fisherfolk, who probably came to the Sea Stair Market just to see what was left after the earthquake wave.
Ymir kept light on his feet, squaring up with his opponent to inflict more damage on her. She did the same. Both had their fists up. The she-orc, however, had those tusks to contend with. If he hit one, it might cut his hands to shreds.
She struck, fast, hitting him square in the face. His cheek popped open. Blood gushed down his face and dripped off his chin. She was back out of his reach in seconds. She was a warrior, waiting for another chance. Now they were both bleeding.
They danced around and around, each waiting for the other to strike. Ymir frowned. Gatha might not be worried about the security guard coming, but he was. Time was growing short.
He stepped in and opened himself up, and she took the bait. She threw a series of jabs, striking him in the back, side, and stomach. He punched her face again, then got her into a clinch, which sent them both to the floor, wet with rain, beer, and blood.