by Aaron Crash
Ymir took the she-orc in his arms. He kissed her lips. “You never smell bad. And I like it that you’re a beast. I like to get you on all fours like an animal and take you like a dog.”
Jennybelle pushed her way in and kissed Gatha, then Ymir. “We ain’t had sex with Gatha in our new house yet. I think tonight is the perfect night for such a christening.”
Ymir had thought to do some research on the Kurzig Durgha or talk to Gatha about their strategy in the coming tournament. He had definite ideas on what they should do. However, those plans went out the window.
Gatha’s eyes dropped to Jenny’s tits. Then? There was no stopping the she-orc.
Chapter Sixteen
A WEEK PASSED IN A blur. They only had four weeks left before the Kurzig Durgha. In that time, much had happened. For one, Ymir and his harem had grown comfortable in the Zoo. Now, with so much space, Jennybelle had become obsessed with decorating every inch with flowing fabric, flickering candles, and bookcases full of books, which seemed like a waste since they were literally steps away from the greatest library on Thera, if not all of Raxid.
Though to be fair, there were stories of vast archives across the Weeping Sea in the strange lands of Ethra to the west.
Jennybelle’s decorating was only fueled by their growing wealth, made worse by Tori’s fortunes. The freckled dwab had access to untold riches as the daughter of the thane of the Ruby Stonehold. When Jennybelle mentioned some trinket, Tori bought it the next day. Then there were endless discussions of where to put the useless junk. Even without Tori, they had plenty of money now thanks to The Paradise Tree, which was the only place where people could buy the Amora Xoca or a cup of xoca kaif. The xocalati kaif mixture had taken the entire cape by storm. Some rich women in StormCry sent their servants up to the Sea Stair Market to get a cup, and so the hidden docks traffic had increased sevenfold, especially in the mornings.
Stories of the Amora Xoca still drifted about. The poor winged girl, her tragic story on the southern continent of Reytah. This was the poor girl’s gift to the world—spreading both delicious candy and love. Tori laughed every time someone in the kitchen mentioned the poor girl with the broken wings, named after a little-known hero that Ymir had read about. It was all fiction, but stories sold goods. They’d have to come up with a good story when they finally released the sweet cream, both the original flavor and the xocalati-flavored frozen treat.
Both Ziziva and Zorynda Gold now lived at The Paradise Tree, and there were other fairies who helped with the flow of customers. Rumor had it, both Ziziva and Zorynda were going to drop out of school to run the shop, which had started taking orders from other towns. Ziziva and Ymir had talked about opening other shops along the Sorrow Coast all the way down to Kreenn. Ymir would get a cut of all profits—that was in his very carefully crafted contract.
It was summer at the school, yet Ymir and his women were busier than ever. Lillee worked constantly on her epic story, The Crippled Cicada, finding new inspiration from her unlikely love affair with Charibda. Those two were as loud as tundra panthers when they mated, and Ymir was curious about what went on. Both were very quiet about the nature of their lovemaking. The mermaid had turned into a very courteous roommate, though her snoring wasn’t any better. Tori said she was working on a spell.
The dwab had little time for it, though, since she spent countless hours in the Amora Annex, keeping up with manufacturing, along with Jennybelle, who complained about the work constantly. Something was wrong with the swamp woman, but like always, she didn’t to talk about her troubled heart. Growing up with witches, spies, and assassins, Jennybelle Josen had learned that secrets were power, and the wrong secret whispered could get you killed.
Tori must’ve gotten tired of Jenny’s complaining because the dwab started looking to hire on scholars. In the end, however, if they were going to keep up with demand, they would have to open up additional kitchens down south. Ymir didn’t like giving up quality control, but he’d deal with that situation as it unfolded. For now, finding anyone would be a challenge. It was summer. Most scholars had gone back to their homes until the fall.
Not all students left. Many had stayed. Della had announced the Kurzig Durgha and invited all of Thera to attend. The arena they were crafting could hold ten thousand, and they were setting up tents around the cape of varying comfort to accommodate the crowds. That meant even more traffic for The Paradise Tree.
The Theran elite would all be in attendance, from the Holy Theranus Vempor Arcadius to King Velis Naoar IX of the Sorrow Coast Kingdom. Then you had Jiabelle Josen, with any number of Josentown girls. Jenny’s relatives. The swamp woman swore she was fine and would ignore her evil Auntie Jia. And yet, Jenny would twirl her dark hair in her fingers, a look of worry painting her face.
Lillee was also terrified of facing her father again because Cebor Nehenna, king of Greenhome, would be coming, but he would be coming alone. None of Cebor’s wives would be in attendance. That added hurt to the elf girl’s fear.
And Gatha was the worst. She seethed with rage at her family, which she’d escaped the minute she’d killed her sister in another Kurzig Durgha years before. Gatha was never in the Zoo. She was either working in the Librarium, off with her dirty books, or training. She’d become savage to be around, quick to curse, quick to storm off.
Ymir figured she had the right to be so outraged, but he needed to talk to her and get more of her story. At the same time, Gatha would understand about his own tragic history and the hunt for the night bear. And what happened to his friend Byeor.
Ymir, too, was rarely in their new home. He spent time in the Amora Annex, working on the xocalati business, and he fought every morning on the Sunfire Field with Gharam, Gatha, Della, and Sturm Valarenza. Of course, he had his second home on the second floor of the Librarium Citadel, studying any number of subjects.
Friday evening, after dinner, Ymir was reading from the tome of a famous Morbuskorian alchemist, Fifunn Rendlim. The dwarven scholar had revolted against the secretive nature of his people and chose to publish his works in Four Roads. He didn’t just write about alchemy, but other unsavory things, including shortcuts to the fourth category of magic, fascinara, which Ymir would use to alter the Gather Breath Ring.
Tori was already so busy that Ymir decided to take on the project himself. He reviewed the diagrams that showed the complex relationship between a sorcerer’s dusza, his Focus ring, and the item he wished to enchant. It was interesting to note that he’d not used the advanced magic to make any of the other rings. Some scholars believed that was to encourage even novices to craft the rings. For Ymir, it seemed somehow dubious. Would more advanced scholars reject the rings as being too dangerous? Perhaps. But he was too far along not to continue.
Ymir glanced out the windows to watch the wisps of fog floating in with the night. Being in the Librarium alone on a Friday night brought back memories of his first weeks at the Majestrial Collegium Universitas, when he’d been new and on work study. He remembered Gurla being a bitch to Kacky and Gluck, the she-orcs who were earthy, funny, and always outrageous. Kacky and Gluck didn’t think too much of Gatha because the she-orc had chosen to be igptoor. To those two she-orcs, having the opportunity to join any Gruul family, anywhere on the Blood Steppes, was completely foreign to them. Kacky and Gluck never had that opportunity. They’d come to Old Ironbound to find husbands and ptoors of their own.
Ymir’s eyes shifted from the mist in the window to the Princept’s mezzanine office. It was empty, which was unusual. Both of them worked together on most nights, casting the other occasional glances. At first, Ymir thought they were keeping a suspicious eye on one another. Now it was like they were comrades, working for a common purpose. Each glance felt more reassuring than distrustful.
Gatha came marching up the steps. She sank down into a seat and put out a hand. “Give me it. I know what you are thinking, Ymir of the Black Wolf Clan. I would take it. I would use it. And if the Princept learns of it, and if
she gives us any trouble, then I say she can go fuck herself.”
Ymir chuckled. “You are not being clear with me, Gatha of the Ssunash pits. What do you mean when you say ‘it’?”
“It. The Yellow Scorch Ring. I am of the Sunfire school, and it will make my flames burn hotter. Not just that, I can manipulate the amwabs around us. Fill them with fire. I won’t be able to use it when we spar, not so aggressively, but I should practice with it.” She scowled. Then she looked him in the eye.
He saw doubt there. He saw hurt. “Or perhaps you don’t trust me. Perhaps you don’t think I can win. I’ve lost before.”
“Two battles out of countless,” Ymir said. “You expect a perfection you cannot attain...that you could never have maintained. You are very strong, Gatha of the pits, and yet, you have a lot to learn.”
“Do you have things to learn?” the she-orc shot back.
Ymir motioned to the books. “Doubtless. We only stop learning when we die. There is still so much I don’t know. However, I do know more about the Kurzig Durgha. The battle royale. The rule of will. The cards of the Blooding, the Maiming, and the Slaying. The tournament master, called the Durgha K’Danzga, turns over cards from the deck to decide who fights and the nature of that fight...either first blood, a maiming, or to the death. The cards decide.”
Ymir paused to consider what that meant—to have the cards decide the fate of the combatants. It was elegant and showed the reality of life, a combination of luck and skill. Thusly, destinies were forged.
He continued. “The tournament starts with a single battle that includes all twenty-five participants. If a Slaying card is drawn, the battle won’t end until a single team is the clear winner. You could flee such a battle, but oftentimes, those who flee are killed by the crowd.”
Gatha listened hard to what she already knew. Her rose-colored eyes far away. She had her white hair pulled back in a ponytail with a wisp here and there pulled free. She looked disheveled, but that made her more beautiful. All the training had turned her into a lean machine of destruction. Their sex had never been wilder. Yes, her tits had gotten smaller, as had her hips, but he liked watching her flex while he pounded her.
Ymir pulled himself back to the moment. Gatha was troubled. He couldn’t think about sex. He had to listen to her and help her. They would fuck later.
“What is it, Gatha?” he asked.
“You’re describing the Kurzig Durgha in Pidgin,” she murmured. “I’ve never heard a human speak those sacred words in Pidgin. Part of me feels how wrong it is. How all of this is wrong. My father orchestrated this entire tournament, here, for this purpose, and he didn’t contact me. Neither did my mother. For obvious reasons.”
“I could use the Gruul words,” Ymir said softly.
Gatha shut her eyes. “It will be better when this is over. I will either be dead, or I will walk through victory in the blood of my enemies.” Her eyes opened. “If you die, I will slaughter this continent. I will burn the corpses as an offering to your spirit. The smoke from the funeral pyres will blot out the sun. Everywhere, there will be cemeteries in your honor. Your name will be spoken in awe for a thousand years just as others will whisper my name in fear.”
“I would imagine some already do whisper your name in fear.” Ymir set the Yellow Scorch Ring on the table. “We will train with it in secret. When your father arrives, we will use it in our training, so Della will see. If she asks, you’ll say your father’s retinue gave it to you in secret.”
A rare smile lit up Gatha’s face. “You’ve been corrupted by Jennybelle Josen. You have become adept in your lies.”
“It’s the nature of the southern lands,” Ymir agreed. He grinned at her. “Tell me your heart, Gatha, and I will tell you mine. For I too am troubled.”
“Because of the fucking magic.” Gatha left the ring on the table. She knelt in front of him and looked him in the eye. The Farrg Panng. Their souls met. And then she kissed him. “Soon. Soon we will talk. I am not ready. You will wait, will you not?”
“I will wait,” he said.
That was when they both turned to see Charibda standing at the top of the steps. Her face couldn’t be blacker. She strutted forward, and Ymir was ready with a spell. Gatha was in no mood to deal with the mermaid’s attitude.
The she-orc stood, fists at her side. “What?”
Charibda lifted her chin.
Ymir winced. Gatha would destroy the mermaid. The she-orc was shorter but wider with muscle, and trained to kill. The mermaid princess had probably grown up in softness and comfort with her every whim catered to.
“I want to fight in the Kurzig Durgha. I want to clear the name of the Aquaterreb. I want to put the name of the Delphino family on everyone’s lips. You won’t fucking deny me this.”
Gatha blinked, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. A single laugh burst out. Then more laughter. She finally sat down because she was having trouble standing, breathing, and laughing that hard.
The mermaid grabbed her dress, lifting it up above her thighs, and Ymir got a glimpse of her oheesy. That was short-lived, but it was enough to distract him for one critical moment.
Charibda’s legs grew indistinct, like water flowing. Where there had been only two legs with their bone spikes jutting from her heels, there were now eight tentacles. She rolled forward on those roiling tendrils.
One swept around Gatha’s neck, circling like a snake. The she-orc let out a gasp, trying to breathe, but the mermaid caught the she-orc’s arms, her legs. In seconds, she was caught. Charibda threw coils around the railing to anchor herself while the she-orc fought. Gatha managed to tear an arm lose, and she used to it batter away the coils holding her legs.
Books slid off the table, chairs were scattered, and Ymir stood, raising his left hand, his Focus ring smoking. There was moisture in the air. He could use it to freeze the mermaid. He went to utter a spell and another tentacle struck his face, spoiling the magic. He felt the dull pain of his nose being squashed, and the blood flowed down his lips.
He caught the tentacle to rip the woman from the railing and to free the she-orc, but Charibda hit him again. Another tentacle circled his leg and tried to flip him.
He managed to stagger back and away from her. He spat out a spell. “Jelu jelarum!”
Ice crackled around her coils, freezing two and making her wince. However, Gatha was struggling to breathe. Her face was a dangerous purple color.
“Jelu inanis,” Charibda spat, and the ice holding her was gone.
Ymir summoned ice knives. He’d cut the coils off this mermaid bitch if she thought to kill Gatha. He didn’t need to.
The mermaid let Gatha drop, and in seconds, the tentacles were gone and she stood on two legs.
“Ignis prolium!” The she-orc flashed forward with knives of fire. She held a flame blade to Charibda’s throat. “I should kill you!” The she-orc’s roar echoed through the citadel.
A voice called up from below. “Ho, there, Gatha! Is there something wrong?” It was one of the Gruul guards, Agneeyeshka.
Charibda again lifted her chin. “Cut my throat, orc bitch, but I could’ve killed you. I made your man bleed. I can fight. And I demand that you allow me to join your Gungarr.”
Gatha stared into the mermaid’s eyes.
For a heart-stopping moment, Ymir thought the princess of the pits would kill the troublesome mermaid right before his eyes. That wouldn’t make his life any less complicated. For one thing, Tori would never forgive Gatha. For another? Lillee would be heartbroken.
Ymir, though, wasn’t about to say a word. The she-orc needed to learn how to take defeat. And if things turned out a certain way, there was a good chance Charibda Delphino would join them as part of their family. The mermaid had won two out of the four hearts needed to win Ymir’s challenge.
Again, Agneeyeshka called up. “Gatha!”
Her fire dagger winked off. “It’s fine, Agneeyeshka. All is fine.”
The security guard’s boots ec
hoed below them as she walked out of the citadel.
Gatha studied Charibda. “Who are you really, sea girl? How can you fight so well?”
The mermaid’s voice came out deadly. “I am the daughter of Borisib Delphino, the daughter of Beryl Delphino, and I have spent my life defending the territory of the Delphino family against usurpers, rogues, and bloodthirsty bitches who wanted to destroy us. And it wasn’t just the civil wars that honed my skills. My single obsession has been to prepare for a war, a war to destroy dirt worms like you.”
Gatha’s snapped out her tusks.
Charibda leaned in. Gatha’s long, dagger-like tusk pressed into the mermaid’s throat. The pair were kissing-close. But the mermaid had more important business. “But now I want to defend the land people from this great threat. We all know about Gulnash the Betrayer and the villages he’s burned, the men he’s killed, and the women he’s raped. And the children he’s enslaved to keep his horde fed. He must be stopped. I want to do my part.”
“For the Aquaterreb,” Gatha whispered. “To win back favor. To prove yourself to us and to this school. I understand you, sea girl. Don’t think I don’t.”
The she-orc backed up. “We have our Gungarr. You didn’t defeat me. Don’t think you did. You used your strange body to ambush me. On the battlefield, I would be ready. I would win.”
“Perhaps,” Charibda said. “Perhaps we should try each other.”
Ymir found himself proud of the mermaid. She’d come here to prove herself and she had done so. It hadn’t been fair, but in war, fairness was a commodity no one could afford. It was kill or be killed by any means necessary. To think otherwise was naïve. Just like survival on the tundra—the weather didn’t care if you lived or died, and neither did war.
Gatha barked laughter. “Try you? Your tits are too small, and besides, you said I stink. I wouldn’t smell any better if I decided to let you between my legs.”
Inane rage lit the mermaid’s dark green eyes. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. What’s wrong, orc bitch? Angry I beat you in a fight?”