Barbarian Gladiator (Princesses of the Ironbound Book 4)

by Aaron Crash

  The she-orc spat out her bitter mirth. “So, the Ax Tundra warrior is going to run from me?”

  The clansman laughed softly, so as not to wake up Tori, who was sleeping in the next room. “No. If I’m to talk, I’ll have beer in front of me when my throat gets dry. Fine. We’ll do this tonight. Because tomorrow, we face our worst fears—Charibda Delphino on the field of battle.”

  That made Gatha smile. Her tusks retracted as she wiped the tears from her face.

  Ymir returned with a pitcher of beer that he put down on the table. He poured himself a cup, drank half, and refilled it.

  “My grandfather led the hunt,” Ymir started. “The men of my clan were there, and it was only a few of us boys, just turned men. Me, Ykor with his bow, Raynan and his hatchets, and Byeor, who had a sword almost as big as he was. We tracked the night bear down into the Crack. Through a narrow ravine, and into a grove of trees...sanctum trees, like I’ve seen here in the south. Those trees, though, seemed long dead, or perhaps not dead. They were frozen, and yet had leaves. It wasn’t natural. The Crack was never natural. Nor was the night bear. It was flesh and shadow, and teeth, so many teeth in so many mouths.”

  “A demon,” Gatha whispered.

  Ymir shrugged. “I’ve fought both night bears and demons, and I would prefer the demons. It might be my boyish fear talking. I grew up with the threat of night bears dragging off families into the cold. Their bodies would be hardly marked. I’ve seen the corpses. They ate the hearts and souls of their victims. They died with looks of terror on their faces.”

  “And that night in the Crack?” Gatha asked.

  “There wasn’t just one bear but two. One to lead us in. One to strike us from behind. We were struck from both sides.” Ymir’s heart went cold as he remembered that day. Their weapons couldn’t pierce the thick, hairy hides of the stinking creatures. The things were bear-shaped, but they had roaring mouths on different parts of their bodies. And they’d been so dark, hard to see, even harder to make out in the flickering light. The shadows had seemed to multiply in the grove of strange trees.

  “Our weapons couldn’t hurt them,” Ymir said quietly, taken back to that night. “We cursed. There were cries of suffering as those shadowy mouths ripped through the hearts of men. As those dark claws rent the souls of my friends. Raynan was killed quickly. It was a mercy. I would’ve been killed if Byeor hadn’t had that sword, an old weapon, passed down from father to son. No one knew how old that big sword was, and we had laughed at him for bringing it, and yet it saved our lives. Byeor killed one of the night bears, but he was wounded sorrowfully. He wasn’t bleeding, but the light was fading from his eyes.”

  Ymir’s mouth was dry from remembered terror. He sipped the beer. “One of the other men, Ynyo, was newly married. He had every reason to want to get out of the Crack, and he could’ve run. Instead, he took up the broadsword, and the last of the bears was there, and he kept it at bay. My grandfather gathered the survivors, and he was helping them to escape the grove through the narrow ravine. Ykor wouldn’t leave Byeor, but Byeor couldn’t run.”

  Ymir winced at the pain. He remembered as if it were yesterday, yet those minutes had a dreamlike quality to them. Fallen torches burned but were flickering out, held in the fists of dead men, and the corpse of the fallen night bear was already beginning to rot. Impossible, but black flies were bursting from its skin amidst a tumble of white maggots.

  “Ynyo needed the protection of the narrow ravine because the night bear was trying to get behind him. But Ykor and Byeor and I were in the way, at the mouth of the entrance. Poor wounded Byeor couldn’t run, but he was still alive, and Ykor wouldn’t leave him. There wasn’t time for talk.” Ymir gritted his teeth. He’d already told this story to his grandfather, his grandmother, and to Ilhelda, his love. He thought he’d never have to tell the story again. But the stories of some wounds need to be repeated until they are healed. So much had happened since that time, but the pain was keen.

  Gatha saw the truth. Ymir couldn’t say it. The she-orc could. “How did you kill your friend Byeor?”

  “With one of Raynan’s fallen hatchets,” Ymir said. “It was a kindness. But it was sad, for he’d saved my life only to end his. I pulled Ykor away. He wasn’t weeping, but there was such hatred in his eyes for me. In some ways, that was worse than him crying.

  “Ynyo fell back to the ravine. I rushed forward. When the night bear tried to come through, I forced it back with my ax. I couldn’t hurt it, but I could push it into Ynyo, wielding Byeor’s family sword. Ynyo drove the blade into the night bear’s heart. And we survived. We finished the hunt. There were other night bears, but none so vile. It was almost like the Crack fed them. Of course it did. The Lonely Man was there, watching me, and that was when I was chosen.”

  Gatha waited to ask a question. “You said there were sanctum trees. That far north? They must’ve been taken there. Planted there. It does make one wonder.”

  Ymir finished his beer, poured himself another, and finished that. “All of this makes me wonder about my fucking magic. And I question why the demon was in the Crack and why it chose me.”

  “The Akkir Akkor also have an interest in you,” Gatha murmured.

  “And the Akkir Akkor don’t trust Sarina,” Ymir said. “They warned me about her. But in truth? I trust the ghost of the Princept far more than those things.” He sighed. “I’m wondering why the Lonely Man was on the Ax Tundra in the first place. It’s unfair. It’s hard enough to survive the weather and other clans, but then to be set upon by demons? It’s an infuriating cruelty.”

  “And the Axman doesn’t care.”

  Ymir laughed at that. “The Axman hews our path in the world but doesn’t care how we walk it. The Shieldmaiden tries to protect us on our journey. And the Wolf pisses on it all.” He inhaled, held it, and exhaled. He smiled. “Better. I feel better.”

  “Ykor finally forgave you?” Gatha asked.

  “He had to,” Ymir said. “The truth was, Byeor was already dead, and Ykor hadn’t been able to accept it.” Ymir then motioned to her. “Now, tell me your story.”

  Gatha stood. She drew close and they shared the Farrg Panng. Then Gatha kissed him. “I could tell you my story, or we could fuck.”

  “It’s an unfair choice,” Ymir said. “To talk would help you. To fuck would help me. It’s your turn, Gatha.”

  The she-orc lifted her shirt to straddle him. She gathered up her shirt and pulled it above her green breasts, tipped by lovely nipples. She kissed him again. “Who says the fucking won’t help me? We’ll have plenty of time for me to bore you with my story. You have unburdened yourself. That is more important.”

  She ground her oheesy against his straining pants. She was kissing him, moaning, touching his face.

  He grabbed her hair and forced her face back. He thought of the games Lillee and Ribby had been playing.

  Would Gatha ever play such a game? To see her submit to Lillee would be a sight.

  “It’s not more important,” Ymir countered. “You keep to yourself. Your past chews on you. You need the unburdening.”

  Gatha showed him her tusks. “I will tell you everything if Ribby gets the better of me tomorrow.”

  “You’d best get some sleep,” Ymir said.

  “Then you better fuck me quick.”

  Ymir stood, lifting Gatha, which took some muscle. She was a warrior and weighed as much as one. Her cup tumbled to the floor. Ymir didn’t care. He yanked his pants down and took her on the table, slamming into her until the other cup fell, the pitcher fell, and all the while she grunted with every thrust.

  After the day’s events, the stress relief felt good. Ymir bit Gatha’s corded throat and came inside her.

  Tori came out of her room wearing a flowery nightgown, rubbing an eye, her hair mussed. She took one look at them, wrinkled her nose, and rolled her eyes. “Inconvenient.” She yawned and padded back to her room.

  Ymir kissed Gatha.

  “I would sleep with y
ou tonight,” the she-orc murmured.

  Ymir carried her down the steps, through a bathroom, and into Tori’s old room. It was now the main room, and Jennybelle was there in the big bed. However, there was room enough for both Ymir and Gatha. Ymir crawled in-between the women, and Jenny threw an arm over him while Gatha snuggled close. He could see the StormLight, glowing upon the dark waters of the Angel Bay to the east and the Weeping Sea to the west.

  Ymir kissed Gatha’s white hair. Would she open up to him more? He knew some of her wounds, but to get her to talk, she might have to lose to Charibda. What would that do to the she-orc’s heart?

  Morning brought Charibda storming up the steps from her room below. She stood at the foot of Gatha’s bed, dressed in a shimmering cuirass of seashells. In her hand was a trident. A net, knotted to heavy weights, hung over her shoulder. “Valarenza is dead. I demand you give me my place on your team.”

  Gatha kept her eyes closed. “Our Gungarr.”

  “I don’t want a fucking orc language lesson,” the mermaid spat. “I want to beat you so you know I’m every bit as much a warrior as you.”

  Ymir doubted that, but they would have to give Charibda Delphino her chance to prove herself.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  CHARIBDA THOUGHT SHE’D fight on the Sunfire Field, but Ymir met with Della, and he brought Gharam and Gatha as well as the Princept down to an alley in the Sea Stair Market. It was a narrow avenue in the middle of some empty warehouses. The mermaid wouldn’t have much room to maneuver, and she wondered if they’d brought her to such a place to sabotage her.

  She was there to be a warrior, not to get into Ymir’s sharreb, nor to romance anyone. It wasn’t a time for politeness, so she let her anger show. “This is unacceptable. I’ve watched you train on the Sunfire Field, yet you bring me here, to this stinking alleyway. Why?”

  The Honored Princept stood in strange robes. They were black, but they had the symbols of all four Studiae Magica—the starburst, the three Moons, the closed first, and the open palm—

  done in grays, dark blues, and other muted colors. It was a striking outfit, and not her usual Sunfire robes. She had two wooden Gruul swords sheathed on either side of her waist. It was odd that they were wooden. Her short, white hair was pretty, and her storm-gray eyes were bright.

  The mermaid could see why her mother had taken the Princept as a lover. She was strong, passionate, and beautiful. And from the rumors, she had a libido, though she kept it in check because she kept the school running despite the many controversies that had plagued Old Ironbound in recent years. There were the murders last year, the Aquaterreb attack this year, and now this death tournament with the orcs.

  Charibda’s mother had withdrawn to the Delphino family palace and had taken on any number of other lovers. Beryl now had a sharreb of her own, though with a woman there was another word, a ferraba. It was doubtful that Beryl Delphino would ever have another man in her life. She’d loved Charibda’s father too much.

  Ymir stood with his battle ax on his shoulder. “We’re here because I don’t think the orcs have ever fought a mermaid before. If you do prove worthy, I want to keep everything about you secret until the very last minute.”

  The Princept regarded Charibda with a furrowed brow. “If you are such the warrior, Ribrib, why didn’t you fight the night your uncle attacked?”

  “If you insist on a fucking nickname, Princept, call me Ribby,” the mermaid princess barked. “I’d prefer Charibda. You should be glad I wasn’t there, Princept, because I wouldn’t have been fighting for you. I would’ve fought against you. And things would’ve turned out very differently.”

  Gharam rumbled laughter. “Because of you, girl? I have shits that weigh more. And you’re all gangly arms and legs. And that spear has one too many points to be worth a bad fuck with a Goyyoat whore. And is that a net? Are those seashells? It’s all very pretty. You’re very pretty. Not that it will help you when Gulnash comes to bash your brains in.”

  Charibda’s first instinct was to strike, as she had before with Ymir and Gatha. But when she’d done that, the she-orc insisted she’d cheated. Charibda stood there, seething, but she kept still. She forced her voice not to crack from her anger. “My uncle didn’t reveal any of his plans to me. I think he probably thought like you do...that I’m a little mermaid princess and all my combat skills are just the pretend games of a foolish child playing at war. Well, I can assure you, I was never going to play at war. I was going to rise with the Aquaterreb families, and we were going to slaughter the armies of the Sorrow Coast as we wiped out the Borlyone family, a battle my uncle wasn’t around to fight. Regardless of the many civil wars I fought, I would’ve marched with the Delphino legions, and we would’ve reddened the Weeping Sea with the blood of all you dirt worms. Does that answer your question?”

  Gharam slurped even as he rumbled with laughter. “I’m liking this skinny bitch.”

  The Princept sighed. “Please, Professor Ssornap, could you not call our scholars bitches?” The pretty white-haired woman nodded. “I understand, Charibda, but keep this in mind. I have a continent of warriors to draw from. We need the best, and if you aren’t the best, you will not join our Gungarr.”

  “You have the warriors of your pathetic continent of dust, mud, and piss,” she shot back. “I am not of your continent.”

  That brought more slurping and chuckling from the orc professor.

  “You aren’t of this continent, Ribby,” the Princept agreed with a tolerant smile. “I’ve been considering reaching out to one of the Wingkin, for there are winged warriors trained from birth to fight. Rumor has it, there is such a woman who has been seen in far Ethra to the west. We don’t have the time to contact her.”

  “You don’t need to!” the mermaid insisted. “I’m here. Now, who do I have to beat to prove I’m worthy?”

  Gatha laughed, and it wasn’t a pleasant sound. She’d been standing there, one of the strange wooden swords sheathed at her hip. Another oddity—she wore a new Focus ring on her finger, a mixture of gold and some reddish metal. Charibda had noticed it on her finger when she’d woken the pair up that morning. Ymir and Gatha had been all snuggled together in their bed, along with Jennybelle, and it had made Charibda feel so lonely.

  The mermaid knew she had to watch out for that new Focus ring. Tori had mentioned something about special magic that Gatha and Ymir had used against the rogue orc’s warriors. They’d heated up the armor of two of them and frozen the others. It wasn’t simple Sunfire and Flow magic. It was something else.

  The Princept also noticed it. She kept glancing at Gatha’s left hand.

  Gatha spoke in a soft, deadly voice. “You will fight me.”

  “Why you?” the mermaid asked.

  Gatha threw a meaningful look at the barbarian. “Ymir and I have an agreement in this matter. You don’t mind, do you?”

  Charibda shook her head.

  “But you have to use a prokta sword, and not your trident.” Gatha explained to her the nature of the strange swords.

  The mermaid shook her head. “No, we fight to first blood. In your primitive death tournament, there are rounds that will be to the Blooding, based on a card draw. Am I wrong?” The barbarian and the bitch librarian weren’t the only ones who could study.

  Gatha grinned. She dropped the sword and motioned for Ymir. “Throw me your ax, clansman. This prokta doesn’t have the edge for what I need.”

  The Princept shook her head. “No, I can’t have Gatha hurt from simple sparring. I won’t risk her.”

  “You aren’t risking me,” the she-orc roared. She then smiled, calming herself. “Believe me, Princept, this won’t take long.”

  Charibda fell into a fighting stance, balanced on her legs like a human warrior. She would save her tentacles for when it would be strategically prudent to use them.

  Ymir tossed Gatha his big battle ax. He stood back with the Princept, the two standing close together, with a familiarity that surprised the mer
maid. Were they merely friends? Or were they more?

  Gharam came forward, speaking in a guttural voice. He called out the sacred litany of the Kurzig Durgha. “Our lives are short, but the war is forever! Fight and die!”

  “Fight and die!” Gatha echoed. She stood with her ax ready. In her rose-colored eyes was a deadly seriousness. She was at the south end of the alley, with Gharam behind her. Charibda stood on the north side, with the Princept and Ymir looking on.

  The mermaid knew that to win this battle, she would have to do the unexpected, yet she also had to prove that she had the melee skills to take on any opponent. It was too difficult to balance both.

  Flame armor erupted around Gatha.

  The mermaid decided to strike with a water attack. “Jelu jelarum!” The mermaid summoned a liquid torrent that struck Gatha, filling the alleyway with steam and extinguishing the she-orc’s flames.

  Charibda danced forward, threw her net, and snagged the battle ax, pulling it out of Gatha’s hands. The she-orc responded by using Form magic to draw stone blades from the stair. Her shouted words, Ignis Prolium, filled the alley. The blades ignited, but there was also a stone edge that could cut Charibda to draw first blood.

  “Caelum caelarum!” Gatha became speed personified.

  The mermaid dropped the net and ax. She twirled the trident, blocking every single one of the she-orc’s attacks and then striking at her with the butt, which might not draw blood but would force her back.

  But Gatha ducked and dove forward. That might’ve been the end of the fight if not for the fact that the mermaid didn’t have mere legs. She had her tentacles, and she called them forth, feeling the itch and burn of a transformation, feeling her bones shift, the muscles change, every bit of herself transforming. She grabbed the she-orc in two tentacles. It was a struggle. By the ocean depths, this girl was heavy.

  Charibda grunted as she threw Gatha at the brick wall on the west side of the alley.

  The she-orc flew through the air. She called out another Moons spell even in the middle of her flight. “Caelum caelarum!” She hit the wall with her feet and sprang off it, using a levitation spell to keep herself upright. Her speed remained relentless.