by Aaron Crash
Gatha pulled back, face wet, eyes half closed. “I’m there. I’m there now. I’m there now, Lillee. Ymir, I’m there. I’m there.” She repeated it over and over. Then she went silent. She fell forward to let Tori hold her. She was screaming now, screaming a single word that matched the heavenly spasms of her bliss. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
The initial shock wore off, and yet, thirty seconds later, she was still feeling the effects of the orgasm, moaning softly with each pulse.
Jenny put a hand to her chest. “I’ve never seen such a sight. That was hot as hell.”
Tori was more direct. The redhead got on all fours in front of Ymir. Her dress and brassiere were around her waist as she arched her back. She was so much thicker than the Gruul girl, with so much more pale flesh. Her oheesy was as different as could be from the she-orc’s, but just as tight, wet, and warm. He went slow with Tori at first to let her get used to his size. Before long, though she was backing into him, squeaking, with Gatha under her sucking on her tits.
Lillee took care of the she-orc. Jenny took care of Lillee. And in a chain, they spent that night in love, in lust, together finally. They all slumped naked together on the blankets. All the women slept in a pile of love.
Ymir, though, stayed awake. He knew the attack would come in the early morning hours. Call it intuition, call it the aftereffects of using the Veil Tear Ring, call it a gift from the Wolf, who sometimes gave people wild visions.
He wasn’t wrong. The women around him were still sleeping when the first cries of alarm erupted in the chill darkness before sunrise. At least they wouldn’t have to fight in the rain. And they would be hitting the merfolk from behind.
He thought of his vision of Gatha, fighting alone, with tears on her face. He wasn’t going to let that happen. If it were up to him, that powerful Gruul woman would never weep again.
Chapter Thirty-Four
THE SECOND THE COLLEGE bells clanged, Ymir was up, throwing on his clothes and snatching up his weapons. It was about forty-five minutes before sunrise. He slung on his quiver and gripped his bow. His ax was over his other shoulder, held in the loops of a long leather strap.
Gatha wordlessly flung herself down the steps to the first floor, where she would put on her armor and grab her sword and buckler. She knew what to do.
Ymir pulled on his boots as Lillee came awake.
The elf went over the plan. “We’ll follow Gatha’s lead. We’ll stay back and cast spells to protect Gatha and Ymir. I don’t think most of us have seen much battle.”
Jenny coughed. “I’ve seen my fair share of death, but my only battles have been here, with you guys, killing professors.”
Tori made a face. “Battle? Like in the kitchen during a rush?” She laughed grimly and hefted a big hammer she’d used on her machines. “Yep, not the same. I’ve not been in a fight like this.”
Ymir told them to meet him at the mouth of the alley with Gatha. The other Gruul soldiers would join them there on the Sea Stair. The clansman left them to scout.
He climbed up the ladder and crept across the roof. His dark leather clothes hid him. The Lover Moons were on the western horizon—they matched his vision. This was the merfolk attack. This was their desperate attempt to get to the Fractal Clock, whatever that might be. Della hadn’t told him, but he’d guessed the function well enough—it was a Flow weapon, capable of freezing things, not so unlike his Winter Flame Ring. He’d been practicing with the magic.
From the Sea Stair, he heard the clank of armored bodies. The cries of battle, the ring of steel on steel, drifted down from the Flow courtyard. Della, Gharam, and other faculty, along with many Sunfire scholars, should be able to hold off the merfolk for a time—or that was the hope.
Ymir leapt from the top of the Amora Annex to one empty warehouse after another. He then found a ledge that took him over a closed tavern and by an apartment, deserted because the Princept had the foresight to force even non-university residents away from the Sea Stair Market.
Ymir leapt onto the top of The Paradise Tree, which was also dark—Ziziva must’ve found a room with her business partners. The clansman hid behind the cold rock of the chimney. Hundreds of merfolk—both mermen and mermaids—some in armor, others naked, sped up the Sea Stair. Those in armor only covered their top half because they needed their legs free to shift into either legs or tentacles. The army had placed two scouts to watch their rear guard.
Ymir would have to kill those guards. The battle glory made his heart pound and his head swim. This was as powerful a feeling as the sex he’d had the night before. This was raw life, and he became his senses—the cool air on his sweat, the salty tang of the merfolk army, and movement, from the one scout on the south side of the street. The other scout was on the north, hidden in the alley that led to the annex.
Ymir had to hurry. Gatha and the other Gruul guards might not see the merman, a bestial creature who held a strange, mussel-encrusted ax.
The clansman ran up the peaked roof of The Paradise Tree and slid down the other side. He leapt over the street below and onto another roof. He was up that peak and down the other side in seconds. The north-side scout was one street up from him.
Ymir positioned himself behind another chimney so the south-side scout couldn’t see him. She was a muscled mermaid with a clean-shaven scalp, marked with the dark ink of tattoos. In thick, web-fingered hands, she held a spear tipped with a jagged blade. He fitted an arrow to his bowstring. He’d shoot the mermaid. The merman would see, and Ymir would have to take him out quick and silently. He crept around the chimney, stood, and sighted the mermaid. She saw him and went to scream, but a feathered shaft appeared in her throat. She fell and her spear clattered.
“Arbida?” the merman scout hissed. He walked out into the street, ax ready.
Ymir put a shaft through his back and into his heart. The merman dropped noiselessly.
Killing with a bow wasn’t satisfying. He’d get his fill of glorious ax battling soon enough, however. Stowing his bow and quiver, he took hold of a gutter and dropped to the cobblestones as quietly as a panther.
From above, fire exploded, filling the night. There were cries of anguish, both human and merfolk. Then lightning crackled, spitting and shining from above.
Gruul soldiers, all women, appeared from the buildings. They must’ve seen the scouts.
Meanwhile, Gatha led the other princesses out of the annex alley. The Gruul girl wore her leather and plated armor. Steel covered her arms and shoulders, as well as her thighs. An iron buckler was strapped to her left arm. She held a curved orcish blade in her right fist. Ymir knew, firsthand, how deadly she was. She hadn’t been called the princess of the Pits for nothing.
Lillee and Jenny wore dark clothes—they’d come prepared. Lillee had a sword sheathed in her belt. Jenny had her tulwar. Tori hadn’t known she’d be involved in a sneak attack. She was in her blue dress and Moons robes. She gotten smart and turned them inside out. The lace on her dress, though, would shine. Her hammer hadn’t been made for war, but it was a solid piece of steel and could do some damage.
Ymir was glad to see a dozen Gruul women with them, all prepared for war. He didn’t see Agneeyeshka, and he wondered at that. Where was that guard? He’d expected to see her.
Frugla, one of the guards not in Gharam’s harem, nodded at him. He nodded back.
There wasn’t anything more to say. They needed to get to the Flow courtyard before Della and her soldiers were overwhelmed. He gave both his bow and his quiver to Lillee. She was sweating, and her eyes were wide. This poor girl was far more artist than warrior.
“It will all be fine,” he said to the elf. Then he turned to the she-orc and smiled. “I’m glad you are here, Gatha. Not only for what we did last night, but for the work of the morning.
Her tusks were out, and she was smiling.
Ymir slipped the Yellow Scorch Ring on his left middle finger and the Winter Flame Ring on his right. He felt their energy, and he felt the world around him. The
very stones under his feet came alive in his senses.
The clansman told them the plan. “Gatha and I will lead the other Gruul soldiers into combat. There are at least a hundred of the merfolk, if not two. More might be coming, but I didn’t see any, and I took out both of their scouts. We’ll make a stand at the top of the Sea Stair while the other princesses offer us support.”
Tori grumbled, “Wished I was just bringing you snacks. Or engineering a siege weapon. This is not where I shine.”
Ymir laughed, and they headed up the stairs, the warriors up front and the spellcasters in the back.
He could feel how much Gatha wanted the battle. He knew he’d found a battle sister in her. The day would be bloody, and they would know glory, and neither would fall. By the Axman’s beard, they would win the day. This was his home now. This was his school.
Ymir and Gatha reached the top the steps along with Frugla and her she-orcs. They stopped to watch.
Bodies of merfolk littered the Flow courtyard. The bridges over the moat had been twisted with Form Magic to become a wall of spikes—Brodor Bootblack probably took care of that little piece of magic. All of the bridges connecting the citadel to the other buildings had most likely also been severed. The portcullis gates had been lowered to stop the merfolk from gaining access to the citadel.
Several laughing eels rose up from the water of the moat. Some of the creatures had their fangs sunk into the bodies of merfolk. Their eerie laughter, shrill and unsettling, echoed across the blood-soaked stones. Other eels had been hacked to pieces and wiggled like living ropes across the rock.
Marrib Delphino and his main guard, the biggest and most armored merfolk, had taken shelter behind one of the rock walls. Around them were mermaids, holding hands. That seemed strange.
Lightning crackled out from the citadel, from the second and third floors. Flames poured out of the western portcullis. A rain of ice fell—a nice piece of Flow magic. Ymir hadn’t realized the Coruscation Shelves had hidden arrow slits. It made sense—this place had been a fortress before it had housed books.
The magic attack threatened to destroy the entire merfolk army.
The group of mermaids, all naked and slippery with ocean water, lifted their entwined hands. They chanted in the burbling language of the merfolk. All the magic attacks were dispelled. Those mermaids were somehow combining their magic.
They chanted more spells, striking back. The water of the moat crackled, turning to ice even as the bars of the portcullis glowed red and turned to slag. The laughing eels were stuck in the cold, and they shivered, too frozen to move.
Marrib and his guard stormed forward across an ice bridge, making for the Librarium. The vanguard was met by none other than Della Pennez, in elegant plate mail armor. It must have been magical because she moved with such dexterity. She had a curved sword in each hand. On her right was Gharam Ssornap, bladed and shielded, heavy with his own armor. On her left stood Brodor Bootblack, in heavy plate armor of his own, wielding a two-handed hammer, like an anvil on a stick.
There was no sign of Phoebe Amalbeub, the mermaid professor. No, she’d be hiding out with the others to avoid being killed accidentally. The fairy teacher, Lolazny Lyla, would probably be with her.
Other professors and scholars stood behind Della, the orc, and the dwarf. They could help if the Princept failed to hold the doorway, though with the fierce look in her eyes, she was not going to fail.
Marrib and his men screamed and charged. Around them, spells flashed and faded, each side trying to undo the other, not just with melee weapons, but with spells. Fire, ice, lightning, and chunks of summoned rock were hurtled across the courtyard, some striking the citadel, others raining down on the courtyard.
As for the defenders, Della never looked more beautiful, or more deadly, as she stopped those mermen from winning the citadel. Gharam and Brodor helped, but it was Della herself who fought Marrib and his guards to a standstill at the mouth of the Librarium. She was a gleaming, spinning goddess of battle, striking with both blades.
The Princept had them handled, so that left Ymir free to pick his target. If they could disrupt the circle of mermaids, they might be able to stop the battery of spells the merfolk were casting. He pointed his ax. “Frugla, Gatha, those mermaids need to be stopped. Lillee, Jenny, cover us. Tori, stay back.”
From the left, a hidden contingent of merfolk shrieked and sped over, coming from the covered walkway near the Flow Tower.
Frugla screamed, “We shall take care of these monsters. Stay on target, clansman!”
The dozen she-orc soldiers were pulled into that fight. That left Ymir and Gatha to take out the original target—those chanting fish women.
Ymir and the Gruul princess, followed by his other women, sped toward the circle of mermaids. Other ocean soldiers stood ready to protect them.
“There is nowhere else I would rather be, Ymir, son of Ymok,” Gatha said before the battle could consume them. “There is no one else I would rather have at my side.”
And then they could speak no more. Ymir lost himself in the battle, hacking through limbs, avoiding tridents, and ducking swords. Blood splattered him. A ball of flame threatened to explode in his chest, but it was undone by Jenny calling out, “Ignis inanis!”
A merman surprised Ymir from the side, and the clansman almost wound up skewered, until an arrow struck the monster’s eye, sinking to the fletching. Lillee’s aim was true.
Gatha was everywhere at once, impaling merfolk, chopping through arms, and cutting off legs. Several of the fish warriors were beheaded by her flashing blade. Weapons rang off her buckler, keeping her safe. “Ignis armatus!” Flames covered her for a moment, but then the magic was gone, dispelled by the mermaids. “Ignis protium!” She hurled flame, but again, her sorcery was undone.
The she-orc didn’t pause—she didn’t need spells to fight.
Ymir focused on the stones under the mermaids. He went to use the Winter Flame Ring to bring the cold up their legs, perhaps freeze them in place. But when he tried, he felt them repulse his attempt. He felt the spike of their assault in his dusza. He tried channeling energy from the Yellow Scorch Ring into the stones instead, to ignite them, or to make them explode like he’d done before to the table at the top of the Amora Annex. Again, nothing. The linked mermaids were undoing his spells.
The clansman knew why. Marrib and his army had come confidently up the Sea Stair, prepared to meet magic with magic. They didn’t count on the fury of battle-hardened warriors at the school—Ymir, Gatha, Della Pennez, all were deadly without spells.
Ymir gave up on the fucking magic. He took a fresh grip on his battle ax and got down to the grisly work of chopping through mermen to get to the circle of sea witches who were dampening their sorcery.
Lillee continued to fire arrows, though her quiver was emptying quickly. Jenny and Tori stood with her with tulwar and hammer, respectively, though both were casting inanis spells to keep their friends safe.
“You! Barbarian!” Marrib had turned from the citadel. From the rage in his voice, he’d realized his greatest threat lay behind him. If Ymir and Gatha reached the circle of mermaids, he’d lose the fight.
The huge merman slammed the shaft of his trident onto the ice of the Librarium’s moat. A storm of melted water threw the citadel’s defenders back in a torrent. Della, Brodor, and Gharam found themselves submerged. Then the wave left them and lifted Marrib and his men. The magical water brought them away from the citadel and back onto the Flow courtyard. Their legs changed from human appendages to squid tentacles, and they came down, right into Ymir and his friends, who were knocked back by the crashing wave.
The second wave of defenders rushed out. Professor Issa Leel led the way with the Ironcoats beside her. Both dwarves were suited in armor and both had axes. Ymir rather liked that. He trusted a warrior who preferred the raw damage of an ax to the more elegant slashes of a sword. But to see Professor Leel with her elven long sword, a straight blade coming to a needle-sha
rp point? He might have to rethink his opinion of the uptight Ohlyrran woman.
Korga and Gurla joined them, along with Francy Ballspferd, dressed in studded leather armor and wielding a two-handed sword. Francy must’ve been a half-orc, without a doubt. Other Sunfire scholars joined them.
The linked mermaids let out a wail. Behind the new defenders, the entire entrance to the Librarium froze solid. Della, Gharam, and the rest would have to go all the way around to the feasting hall to get out. By then, the fight would most likely be over.
Ymir, soaked, leapt to his feet. A merman lashed out with a tentacle. Ymir cut off the coil, and then Marrib was on him, his trident spinning. When Ymir blocked it, he had another tentacle to deal with. Bad memories of fighting Hayleesia Heenn’s demons came back to him. Too many damned things had tentacles.
Ymir tripped over something and fell onto his back. Ibeliah Ironcoat had gotten underfoot somehow. The bearded dwab turned to run, but Marrib rammed his trident into her back. She let out a choking yelp before the merman flung her away.
The Ocean Father Divine then rammed the butt of his three-pronged spear into Ymir’s skull. The barbarian fell, stunned. Ymir’s world had become pain.
“Caelum prolium!” Standing over the clansman was the most unexpected figure imaginable. Lightning wreathed Toriah Welldeep’s hammer from her Moons enchantment. She smacked Marrib in his chest, and he staggered back. “You will not hurt my Ymir!”
The electricity on her hammer dissipated. Tori dropped it and didn’t pause. From a pouch on her belt she pulled three vials and hurled them together to the cobblestones. An immediate chemical fire sizzled to life, spitting and shining too brightly to look upon—it smelled like someone had thrown an Alchemist’s Rack into a fireplace. Ymir noticed that on her right hand was the Veil Tear Ring. What was she planning?
“You missed, dwab!” Marrib laughed and stabbed his trident into Tori’s chest. The three points passed easily through her clothes.