by Aaron Crash
Again, Sarina whispered into Della’s ear. You can have him if you want him. You are not a scholar, Della Pennez. You are a conqueror. You are a usurper. You and Ymir will leave this world like a wanton whore, dripping and satisfied. You will be gods!
From behind, Sarina pushed two fingers down Della’s dripping slit until she gently but firmly found Della’s clit. She rubbed it before withdrawing and stuffing those two slippery fingers up into Della’s aching hole. Something brushed Della’s ohi, and it had to be Sarina’s other hand. Or was it a tentacle?
On her bed, Della was fucking herself, and rubbing herself, and coming.
In the dream, Della leaned forward to take Ymir’s cock in her mouth. Feeling his hard sex fill her mouth, smelling him, tasting him, snapped her awake.
Just in time to see a shadowy figure standing above her bed, a naked Sarina Sia, watching Della, masturbating.
A second later, the specter was gone.
Della, though, was beside herself with lust. She wanted to relive the dream a thousand times, a million times, and she longed to be transported back in time to one of Sarina Sia’s orgies. And for Ymir to be there. She’d tasted his cock, but she wanted to feel it in her, filling her, fucking her.
She reached over, opened a nightstand drawer, and fumbled for her newest, thickest glass phallus. Then, spread out on her bed, she slipped the fake cock into herself. She pumped it in and out of herself, grunting with lust.
It was sweet. It was bitter. And then, after three more orgasms, she set the phallus back onto the night table.
She lay there in her fuck sweat, sighing. “Thank you, Sarina.”
Della had been given a gift that night, a sweet dream. Yes, perhaps there was more to it than that, but even if there wasn’t, it was gift enough.
The Princept didn’t know exactly what the dream had prophesized. She could only assume that with the Kurzig Durgha on the horizon, the fate of the world hung in the balance.
If they were smart, strong, and daring, she and Ymir might usher in the Fifth Age together. And if they did? Della would be damned if she’d die without having the barbarian with a magic soul fuck her silly.
Chapter Nineteen
THAT SUNDAY, YMIR SPENT the afternoon in a chair on the beach. He brought it from the Amora Annex, and it was comfortable, half buried in the sand, while the clouds gave him shade. Every so often, the sun would come out, getting him hot enough to go splashing into the surf as it rolled up onto the sand.
They’d stowed much of their beach party supplies in the Annex so it was easy to bring them down. Wood for a fire, chairs, wine, beer, and food. Ymir planned to enjoy the fine summer weather before the autumn rains returned.
Ymir had brought books. He was reading a bound volume of last year’s town criers from Four Roads. The town criers were sand letters sent out to anyone who had sand rooms to get the world news about Four Roads. Most major cities had town criers, sometimes known as sand criers, and that was how information traveled. Issues were bound together. Ymir was paging through the thick volume looking for news on Gulnash. He learned the history of how Gulnash had murdered the chieftain of Goyyoat and had tried to sack the city, thus getting the name of Betrayer. Other than that grisly history, most of the sand criers was propaganda from the Holy Theranus Empire, promising that the rogue orc would be crushed. That hadn’t happened. Quite the opposite.
Gulnash had only increased his power. And now he was coming to Old Ironbound, set to walk onto campus around noon on Monday.
Della had told Ymir, Gatha, Gharam, and Valarenza the surprising news the previous day. The Princept wanted to be clear that the rogue Gruul had to be kept safe until they killed him during the Kurzig Durgha. It was like she was trying to convince herself not to assassinate the raider.
After training, Ymir had stayed behind to talk with the Princept. She seemed aloof and troubled, and they hadn’t sparred like they usually did. It was like she was uncomfortable in his presence, or something was niggling at her. It was likely she just had her mind on coordinating the Kurzig Durgha. And Gulnash coming early was just one more issue she’d have to deal with.
Ymir didn’t care if the Gruul butcher was assassinated or not. However, if Gulnash died, the tournament of death wouldn’t be necessary, and so Gatha would be kept safe. It was tempting.
More concerning? Why was Gulnash coming a month early? That was strange. And he wasn’t coming with a large retinue—most of his horde would arrive when the mass of spectators showed the week of the event.
Ymir would get close to the rogue orc. He would use the Veil Tear Ring, and, while dodging Fluffy, he would see what Gulnash was really doing coming early. Tori had to take a break from using the ring because the hellhound was getting closer and closer to ripping her to shreds. Ymir hadn’t used the ring in months, and he wanted to see if he had better luck.
From the reports in the town crier, it was clear that the Betrayer was a wily villain, interested in not just butchery but magic as well. Ymir knew that Old Ironbound was considered to be a nexus of power...that was why the Vempor Aegel Akkridor had chosen the spot to build his western fortress. Could Gulnash be coming for some sort of ritual? Or perhaps he thought he could storm the Illuminates Spire and use one of those forbidden magic items there. The merfolk had thought to get control of the Fractal Clock, so it wasn’t unprecedented.
Ymir closed the town crier and picked up Circulum, as well as an ancient Theranus dictionary. He had to keep the dictionary clean and sand-free or else Gatha would cut his throat. He had three more breaths to collect:
The breath of ultimate cold. The breath of an angry man. The final breath of the Storm King’s daughter, forever changing and forever changed.
That Saturday, they’d captured the breath of a righteous woman. a former resident of the Zoo. The kaif-addicted roommate, Belissina, went to every Chapel of the Tree service she could. Belissina had found herself spending most of her money and spare time at The Paradise Tree, obsessed with the xoca kaif. She was guzzling it down by the gallon.
For a few free cups, she was glad to help them, and they set up the eight candles before Ymir cast the fascinara spell. When four out of the eight candles went out immediately, the girl was a bit taken aback. But she trusted Tori. Belissina gave them her breath, it was righteous, and they were one step closer to finishing the ring.
Ymir knew an angry man at Old Ironbound, but he was a professor, and that might make things difficult. But he was thinking he might be able to get Ziziva to help him. If she could erase memories, he could get the breath and the professor would not remember the ritual.
He still didn’t know what this last ring would do, not in any real sense. The anonymous author of Circulum promised all sorts of poetic claptrap—the power of the Storm King’s daughter, the force of rivers running to the ocean, of rain falling into waterfalls. And when the water collected into the black ice, the minutes of the day could be cracked. It was all very pretty, but like many of these poems, they didn’t tell Ymir what he needed to know.
As the afternoon turned to evening, Lillee showed up first with a basket of food and wine. He watched her climb down the iron rungs in the cliffside, her chair and the basket levitating in the air above her. She’d been practicing Moons magic, and it showed. Once she got to the sand, the various items in the air floated above her until she reached him. The elf girl sat next to him and poured him a glass of the chilled wine she’d taken from a Flow cupboard in the Amora Annex.
Lillee smiled at him.
He quirked an eyebrow. “What is that look about?”
The elf girl shrugged, adjusted her forearm cuff, then rummaged around in her basket to retrieve a sketchbook. “Walking the Sea Stair Alley, I was reminded of when we first met, when we first kissed, and then, when we did more. It was sexy.”
“Very sexy,” Ymir agreed.
Lillee sipped the wine, thinking. “So much has happened to us. For us. I love our room in the Zoo. And I’m surprised at how muc
h I’m enjoying Ribby. She is a sweet girl.”
“Sweet?” Ymir laughed. “First, there is the snoring. Then the belching. Then, she is so quick to shriek at us over any little offense. I wouldn’t call her sweet.” He had to pause. “Though I have seen a side to her that surprised me. It seems you have as well.”
“I have.” Lillee turned to look at the ocean waves rolling in. “Did you know the snoring comes from her body not being accustomed to breathing air during sleep?”
“I think I did read that somewhere. Or Ribrib told me.”
“Ribrib. She hates that nickname. She doesn’t mind Ribby, though. We talk about that. We talk about everything. Are you going to bring her into your harem?”
Between the xocalati business, the Gather Breath Ring, and Kurzig Durgha training, Ymir hadn’t thought much of the mermaid princess. Yet, he didn’t want to bring in a woman who wouldn’t fit in well. “She won Tori and you over. But Jennybelle and Gatha? We’ll see if Ribby can rise to the occasion.”
“Jennybelle has been so distracted recently,” Lillee murmured. “Ribby has been trying to talk with her, but she’s been busy decorating. And then there’s been arguments. And you’re right, Ribby does have a temper. That doesn’t make things any easier. It’s funny. I see the other side of that strength and temper.”
“How so?” Ymir asked.
“I see her subservient side. We’ve been playing mistress and servant games in bed. She is so eager to please me, and as eager for me to take control.”
The clansman found himself grinning. “And do you like to take control?”
Lillee held her wineglass in her left hand. With the other, she stroked her essess. “I must admit, I do like it. It’s been a long time. When I first joined the Cult of Chaos and Desire, Jayla Jereenn and I would sometimes play such games. One of us would be the mistress, the other the slave, and we could be very cruel to one another. Sometimes that cruelty, giving yourself to someone and their most depraved desires, can be freeing. Sometimes, with Jennybelle, you’ve seen me be more aggressive. You know how I can be.”
Ymir had seen Lillee dominate Jenny at times, but then Jenny would sometimes take a more powerful position on some nights. Both bent to Ymir’s will. The two enjoyed him taking the lead, sometimes being rough with them, but never going so far as to be cruel. He had to admit, the idea of Charibda giving herself to Lillee like that did intrigue him. He wouldn’t have thought the pair would play such games.
Then he thought of Lillee’s friend, Jayla Jereenn. She’d been a Sullied elf when the elven princess had first met her. After they’d been caught, Jayla had her sexuality cleansed from her, and she became a kenarra. She became a shadow. As for Lillee, she’d been marked as Sullied, a disgraced elf who couldn’t control her natural desires. It was why she’d left to come to Old Ironbound.
When Ymir had first met her, she’d been so withdrawn. Now? She had a new lover and was playing the sex games she obviously adored.
Perhaps Ymir might have to give the issue of Charibda some thought.
Jennybelle called to them from the grate up in the cliffsides. She lowered a bundle of chairs and supplies for their evening meal at the end of a rope. She didn’t have the same Moons magic that Lillee had yet.
The elf girl popped up and walked across the sand. She cast the magic to bring the gear over, floating the chairs, food, and more wine, as well as bundles of firewood.
The sun was setting by the time Gatha and Tori joined them. The four women talked easily, drinking wine and roasting sausages over the fire on long iron forks. Tori brought bread fresh from the kitchen, along with an apple sweet in a flaky crust.
Charibda came walking out of the surf, but she didn’t join them, not right away. She looked on, from a distance, until it was Lillee who grabbed an extra cloak and ran to the mermaid. She brought her over, and Ribby wasn’t her usual thorny self. She rarely spoke but kept giving Ymir glances.
Gatha finally noticed. “Sea girl, why do you keep looking at Ymir? And you are not being a bitch. By the bloody roots of the Tree, when I expect you to be a bitch, you should be a bitch. Or are you trying to be nice?”
Tori let out a frustrated sigh. “Gatha, she’s trying to be nice.”
Jennybelle was a little drunk, and so she didn’t hold in her opinion. “She wasn’t nice to me about the curtains I want for the kitchen.”
“Red is the wrong color!” Ribby erupted. She exhaled, reining in her initial reaction. She reached her hands out, showing the webbed skin between her fingers, and calmed herself. “I think a softer color, orange, or a gold, would be better. I’m sure we can find a compromise.”
Gatha nodded. “Her first response is to be a mean bitch. Then she calms herself, trying to be nice. Be who you want to be, sea girl.”
Ribby’s eyes flashed. “It is far easier to hate you land people than to try to get along with you. I am trying. I would expect you all to be patient with me.”
“I’ve been as patient as a priest,” Jennybelle said, slurring her words a bit. “But why try to like us now?” The swamp woman squinted and motioned with her wineglass, nearly spilling some of the wine. “That’s right. You want us as lovers. I forget. That’s gonna be a long road to walk. Or should I say a wide sea to swim.”
The mermaid opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. She grinned. “Yes, a wide sea to swim. But I’m going to swim it.”
They drank more, ate more, and the mermaid eventually left them to swim away in the dark sea.
It was Jennybelle that turned to kiss Ymir, and it was the kind of kiss that begged for more. Tori saw what was happening, grew embarrassed, gathered up chairs, baskets, and a few other things, and went trundling off toward the gate. She was strong and could carry a lot, even with the climb up the side. No Moons magic for her.
The clansman ended up fucking Jenny, Lillee, and Gatha in the sand, in various positions, the fire sending heat and shadows across their bodies. Mostly, he got them on their hands and knees to avoid getting sand in uncomfortable places. Jennybelle was lovely, her big ass in the air, with Gatha lying under her, enjoying her swinging tits. Lillee made sure to brush her hands off so she could masturbate while she watched him.
When Ymir demanded that Lillee get on all fours for her turn, he could see she loved being ordered to comply. It was a rare woman that could switch from being dominant to submissive, but Lillee’s sexual abilities were truly admirable.
He came in Lillee, but Gatha wanted her turn, and she got it.
Ymir thrust into her while she hugged Jennybelle, the she-orc’s mouth latched onto one of Jenny’s big tits. Meanwhile, Lillee, with Ymir’s seed dripping down her leg, kissed both the swamp woman and the she-orc, touching them, enjoying the cold of the wind off the ocean and the crackling fire, eating itself into coals.
After Ymir finished inside Gatha, all four of them leapt into the water. The Shieldmaiden moon hung ripe and swollen over the ocean, and in its bright light swam the mermaid, her long hair pulled back, her eyes black, her mouth full of fangs. In her water form, she did look monstrous, but it was clear she’d stayed close to the shore and must’ve seen their sex.
Ymir again wondered what Ribby’s secrets were. Perhaps he’d focus more on the Charibda Delphino situation after the Kurzig Durgha.
He remembered the mermaid demanding that she be a part of Old Ironbound’s Gungarr. That was laughable. No, they had their five for the tournament.
Ymir looked forward to meeting this Gulnash the Betrayer. He’d get his chance, the very next day.
Chapter Twenty
YMIR WAS AT HIS SECOND-floor table when he heard the clank of armor, Gruul shouts, and loud laughter. He hurried to the railing and there, standing in the Librarium Citadel, were five dusty orcs, the biggest he’d ever seen.
All had black hair styled differently—single crests of hair, shaved close, grown long—
but the biggest of the Gruul had his in a huge topknot, held down by a leather thong.
Ymir recognized Gulnash from his description in the sand criers. The Betrayer was seven feet tall, probably taller, and wide with muscle. His green skin bulged under his steel armor. Scars disfigured his face. One tusk had been broken, but he’d used Form magic to add a steel prosthesis, a veritable spike emerging from his lips. On his left hand was a bone Focus ring, which seemed to thrum with power. Slung across his back was a spiked mace on a leather thong, the metal shaped into a skull.
Another orc had an ax, while others had the curved Gruul blade.
“Where is Valarenza?” the Betrayer snarled. “I will have my vengeance!”
Ymir saw the gleam in the Betrayer’s eyes.
One of his Gungarr pointed.
Ymir left his books and sped down the steps, two at a time. The rules of the Kurzig Durgha were clear. Once the date was set, there was to be no fighting, especially not in the arena’s host city. Basically, Old Ironbound was orcish sacred ground now.
Ymir didn’t have a weapon, not one of steel anyway, but as he walked, he whispered, “Jelu prolium,” and created a curved sword made of ice. In battle, if he used it to block Gulnash’s mace, the weapon wouldn’t last. He’d have to strike hard first.
The feasting hall was full of scholars and some faculty, with Sturm Valarenza sitting at a table near the middle, drinking a cup of kaif. The mercenary had his sword, but he didn’t draw it. He swiveled his body, looked up, and smirked at the orc.
Gulnash strode forward. “Valarenza!” he thundered.
The scholars blinked, surprised, and Ymir was joined by Gatha, who slid the Yellow Scorch Ring onto her finger as she hurried forward.
“Gulnash!” Gatha screamed. “Ig thar morgash durg!”
Ymir’s Gruul wasn’t as good as he wished, but he could translate some of what the she-orc shouted. She was reminding the Betrayer that he was on sacred ground and he couldn’t merely murder Valarenza for killing three of his wives.