Barbarian Gladiator (Princesses of the Ironbound Book 4)

by Aaron Crash

  Another shiver. He grinned. “It is a grisly fruit indeed. Why didn’t you tell me you could help me before?”

  I wanted you to come to me, in this moment, in this place, in this way, so I could warn you. I follow the threads of the living. I follow the heat of your desires and the frozen worry of your fears. For I am Sarina Sia of the Majestrial, and I love this school as much as I loved my own flesh when I possessed it.

  Ymir closed his eyes. “Warn me of what?”

  In the moment of your greatest temptation, remember those you love more than yourself. In a moment of blood, do not fear the kiss, for it will bring us both much joy and breath warmed by the heat of love. And when the Storm King’s daughter offers herself to you, take her and her gift. For she is forever changing and forever changed. Now, speak your words.

  “I call forth the breath of ultimate cold.” Ymir felt the air grow chill around him, and he smelled fresh smoke. He opened his eyes, for the task was done, and the ring glowed, then faded. Only one candle burned. “And who is the Storm King’s daughter?”

  The stairwell was empty, but the voice returned. She will know, and she will choose. And the Akkir Akkor are watching, forever watching from their fields of white roses. Are you the sleeper, Ymir? Are you cursed? Will you awaken? Or will something else open its eyes after a thousand years of sleep?

  “Ignis ignarum.” Ymir cast the spell to light the lantern. The extra light showed him nothing.

  He sighed. “And this is what you get with fucking magic, Ymir. Ghosts, fucking magic, curses, and prophecies.” It was interesting that Sarina had mentioned white roses. He’d have to ask Linnylynn Albatross about that, and what she might know. He wasn’t sure if the spectral Princept was his ally or not, but she had helped him. He had one more breath to collect, and he’d have to trust that he’d get that breath when he needed it. He was fairly certain that Sarina Sia had given him a prophecy truer than any he’d been given so far.

  He collected the ring-crafting supplies and walked out of the Scrollery. Protected by the Obanathy cantrips, he left no trace when he locked the gate behind him.

  Had Gulnash done something similar? If he tried to make duplicates of any of Ymir’s rings, the orc villain would fail. All the ringcraft scholars agreed that only one iteration of the Akkiric Rings could exist in the world at any one time. Some argued that the rings wouldn’t even be allowed to be created in any other worlds either, if there were other worlds, scattered across the Stair.

  The idea that there were any number of realms in an endless universe fired Ymir’s imagination like nothing else. He thought he’d live and die on the Ax Tundra. Then? He’d been exiled.

  Coming to Old Ironbound had opened his life up to new tastes, new sensation, new and powerful enemies he could throw himself against in a fight. To destroy demons. To kill Marrib Delphino and his army. To outwit those devils. It was better, grander, and how he wanted to. He’d been born for more, he’d always known that, and he’d been given more.

  Other worlds? Other women, food, feasts, and beer? An endless variety of foes to face? Yes. That felt right.

  Before he returned to the Zoo, he walked through the misting fog to the Flow Field, where the Kurzig Durgha’s arena had been built. He walked through grand stone entrances, shaped by diligent Form students. He ascended the steps of the arena until he was at the very top of the western stands. On the other side of the railing was a straight drop to the Weeping Sea below. Surf crashed against rocks. He turned to view the sands of the arena floor—sand, to soak up the blood of the vanquished.

  Ymir hated that he had hours to spend before the fight. He and his Gungarr were ready. Gharam had never been leaner, and he fought with the ferocity of a Gruul hunting rogue orcs across the Blood Steppes. Gatha truly was the princess of the pits, and whatever skills had dulled during her time with her books had been sharpened to a murderous edge. Ribby fought with surprising elegance, a dance of death, as unexpected as she was lethal.

  And then there was Della Pennez. When she fought, it was like watching death itself work. At her best, Ymir couldn’t match her. Maybe given another two hundred years he might fight as well.

  And why not? Aegel Akkridor lived a thousand years. Why not Ymir of the Majestrial?

  “Fuck you, Sarina Sia, for putting that name in my head. Might as well call me Ymir of Thera.” He wasn’t sure which he liked less, or if he liked both equally, for they fit him now.

  Ymir whispered the sacred litany of the Kurzig Durgha. “Our lives are short, but the war is forever! Fight and die!”

  He’d looked up the history of the litany. It was as interesting as it was conflicted, like most things with the Gruul. The war wasn’t the war against others, it was the war against one’s self. In the pits, you didn’t fight the other warrior, you fought yourself, and if you conquered yourself, you would know both victory and peace.

  Even so, no matter how skilled you were, no matter how powerful you were, death would win in the end. Though some Gruul philosophers believed even in death you continued to fight and only the quality of your opponents changed.

  Fight and die. Yes, you fought, and you died, and you fought and died some more. All life was conflict, a test of will, and to destroy others, first you needed to destroy your own fear and weakness.

  Ymir thought it was bleak but true.

  “Fight and die,” he whispered. He’d be yelling those two words the next day.

  He left the arena and took his time walking back to the Zoo. The university felt like home now, the Flow Tower, the Flow courtyard, the Librarium Citadel, the Chapel of the Tree, and, yes, the rambling apartment rooms dangling off the side of the cliff.

  As he walked down the steps to his room, he heard Charibda’s snores, only a bit, not her normal rumbling. Good. She was sleeping. He needed to get some sleep himself.

  His room was dark, the only light from the glowing incandescence of the StormLight reflected off the ocean. He walked to the front of the bed. He was surprised to see Jennybelle in his bed, naked, with her legs spread and her fingers toying with her sex. Her big tits were such pale perfection in the weak light.

  She sighed with happiness at the sight of him.

  Ymir slid his satchel to the floor. “Well, Jennybelle. This is a pleasant surprise.”

  Jennybelle motioned for him to join her, and he wasn’t going to say no. Ymir tossed off his clothes and climbed into bed. Jennybelle’s body was so warm compared to the cool sheets. Her breath was sweet. Even better was the feel of her big tits being pushed up against him. “Ribby and I talked,” the swamp woman whispered. “Seeing us, Monday night, scared her. She lost family too, had family betray her, and she knows how it is to be alone. It makes me feel bad for all the times I talked shit about her.”

  “So you decided to come to my bed naked?” Ymir asked, kissing the pretty girl on her pretty nose.

  He caught the sharp stink of sex. What had happened between the swamp witch and the mermaid princess?

  The swamp woman sighed. “We talked. Really talked. And she’s not so bad. She admitted to being scared...about tomorrow, I mean. And how awkward she feels. Only she doesn’t show how awkward she is. She just puts on a bitch mask instead. I understand. By the Tree, I understand.”

  Ymir thought again about what his grandfather had said about a woman’s smile. The clansman saw another truth. If a woman’s smile meant many things, so did her frown.

  He kissed Jenny’s face. “So then you decided to come and fuck yourself in my bed?” The question was playful.

  “Uh, not quite. Things happened between Ribby and me. We, uh, chitubbed. Not sure I’m using that word right. You see, I heard you leave, came down to check on things, and she came up, and we were both worried.”

  “But not worried enough to come and look for me,” Ymir prodded.

  Jennybelle giggled. “We talked, like I said. Ribby mentioned something about our Gatha and her, oh, how should I put it? Her obsession with certain aspects of my anato
my.”

  Ymir squeezed the tit he was holding.

  “That’s the one.” Another giggle. “It was almost innocent, how she asked if she could...if she could see them.”

  Ymir was hard now, listening to this story. Charibda had run away Monday night, but she’d come forward days later to face her fear. And to finish her seductions.

  “Did she really ask that?” Ymir asked.

  “Do you think she’d be shy? Do you remember how she marched up to us in the library and demanded to fuck us?” Jennybelle laughed. “It seems like so long ago.”

  “It does,” he agreed. The summer had been packed. They would need to find some way to rest once this tournament was over, the fifth ring made, and the trouble behind them. “So you opened your shirt?”

  Jennybelle found his cock and squeezed it. “I did. You should’ve seen her. I guess the typical mermaid isn’t so big up top. Her eyes lit up, and her mouth hung open, and she mentioned seeing pictures of big tits in one of Gatha’s dirty books. I liked her looking at me. I liked the lust on her face. Gotta admit it.”

  “Then you invited her to touch them?” Ymir asked.

  Jenny’s smile was a bit shy. “I walked up to her. I put her hand on one, and then we were kissing. It was hot. I liked how she smelled, how salty her mouth was. But what really got me hot was thinking of the sexy games she’s been playing with Lillee. Only, with me, Ribby got a little aggressive. She asked if she could be rough, and you know me, I’m good with just about anything. She got me on all fours, so my tits looked even bigger, hanging from my chest.”

  He leaked pre-cum into the swamp woman’s hand, which made it easy for her to stroke him.

  She noticed. “Oh, you like that, do you?”

  “Imagining you, in that position, playing a nasty game with the mermaid? You know I do.” Ymir wasn’t about to stop. “Tell me more.”

  “Fuck me more,” Jennybelle hissed.

  Ymir got on top of her and slid into her wet, gripping sex, well ready after her time with Charibda.

  Jennybelle continued with her story. “She used her tentacles to grab my arms, my legs, to hold me down, and to open me up. Her tentacles teased my tits, but it was her tongue on...on my ohi that felt the best. Was behind me, sucking on me. She said she could be a mistress as well as a servant. And I was going to be her slave. She was royalty, after all.”

  “You’re all royalty here in the Zoo.” Ymir slid out of her until the tip almost left her sweet oheesy. He then slowly slid back into her. He kissed her and again smelled sex. Her mouth was saltier than normal, and her scent different. He licked down her neck to suck on a nipple. Her tit was soft, smooth, and fragrant. He liked how hard her nipple became in his mouth.

  “She liked my hairy pussy,” Jenny whispered, raising her hips up to get more of his uht into her. “She’s smooth down there, and Gatha’s smooth, and so the hair was new for her, my black hair. Lillee’s oheesy is blond, and she’s not as hairy as I am. She liked it. Ribby loved my pussy. She licked me so good, Ymir. She made me come.”

  Ymir was losing control. His mouth left her nipple, and he thrust harder into her. Her breasts jiggled from the fucking.

  Jenny continued her story. “After she made me come, I made her come. She sat on my face. She balanced herself on her tentacles, but underneath, there was her oheesy and her asshole, and I licked them both. She was taunting me, making me her slave, and it was so hot, Ymir. It was so fucking hot and nasty. She was so hot and juicy, and I guess that makes sense, since mermaids mostly fuck underwater. She rode my face and drenched me and had this big orgasm while holding me down with her tentacles.”

  Now he knew why kissing Jenny had tasted different, and why she smelled so much like sex. He was smelling Ribby’s pussy on the swamp woman’s face.

  Jennybelle raised her arms above her head, giving him a view of her smooth underarms, her big tits riding up and down her chest, and her soft belly. Farther down, he watched his wet uht driving in and out of her bushy sex.

  “Oh, Ymir, she got me so turned on, I knew I couldn’t sleep until you fucked me.”

  He pounded himself into her, harder, harder, harder, until he couldn’t hold back. He stuck his cock as far as he could inside her and filled her clasping wet tunnel with his essence.

  He collapsed and rested his face in the crook of her neck.

  She rubbed his back, sweaty now, and caressed his head. “Sweet, sweet Ymir. We’re one step closer to understanding Charibda’s special power. I don’t know about you, but I’m so fucking curious to see what it is. She didn’t tell me. She said it wasn’t for the chitub. It’s funny.”

  Ymir lifted his head. “What’s funny?”

  “Funny that I’m excited to have another girl with us. It feels right. Which is a fucking surprise because I grew up figuring I’d have a husband or two, but I’d probably stop having sex with girls. Well, that certainly didn’t happen.” Jennybelle smiled and laughed. She was happy now, so different from the heartbroken creature who’d been shattered by her aunt on Monday.

  Her aunt. Auntie Jia. Who might be a part of the Midnight Guild.

  Ymir let go of his rage. It was time for sleep and not anger. He’d need his fury for the next day, when he’d be defending Thera, the land he’d grown up either ignoring or despising. He’d been told Thera was a foul place, full of lies, depravity, and the most hideous orgies of demonic magic. Those stories weren’t exactly false, but there was more to it than that. Thera also had love, a grand history, and the promise of a fruitful future.

  Like Jennybelle, his views had changed.

  He fell into a troubled sleep, with Jenny resting on his chest.

  He found himself in a dream, with Sarina Sia leading him up the Librarium Citadel steps to the Coruscation Shelves. The lightning arcing from shelf to shelf revealed corpses everywhere. Some were warriors from the Kurzig Durgha, and some were spectators. He recognized Jia, Ghrinna, and King Cebor, all dead, as well as Ribby, killed, with her throat cut. And yet, the mermaid still seemed to be breathing. How was that possible?

  The spectral Princept shushed his fears with a ghostly voice. The tournament will end how it will end. It’s not what I wanted to show you. You gave me a gift this past school year, rousing me from my grave. I will give you a gift in return.

  Ymir was led to the sixth-floor alcove, where there were no bodies, only a single candle flickering. He was shown a very naked Della Pennez, masturbating. Her robes were open, her lovely face was thrown back, and her muscles were rigid. Her nipples were hard on her tits, and her pink pussy was open, lined with white hair and stuffed with a glass phallus. She was fucking herself, rubbing her clit, and she was coming.

  Seeing the Honored Princept’s orgasm jerked him awake. He sat up, sweating and hard again.

  He must’ve been rubbing up against Jennybelle because she was awake too. She kissed one of his nipples and her hand found his hard shaft already slick.

  They had sex again. This time, while he pistoned in and out of the swamp woman, he thought of the vision he’d seen of the Princept. What would it be like to take their flirtation to the next level? What would it be like to make the calm, controlled, powerful assassin-turned-magistrate scream with ecstasy?

  The very thought of Della Pennez submitting to him pushed him over the edge.

  The sex was quick, which was a kindness.

  He needed to sleep because the next twenty-four hours would be some of the most important hours of his life. The Kurzig Durgha wouldn’t end on Sunday. It would end that Friday night...in darkness and in blood.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  FRIDAY MORNING, DELLA walked out onto the sands under a bright blue sky. The rains had ceased the night before and all had been washed clean. The arena was a wonder to behold, filled to capacity, thousands of spectators holding their breath for the coming event.

  The Princept wore her new Studiae Magica robes over her sleek black leather armor, formed to her frame by Brodor’s skilled hands. S
he had two Gruul swords sheathed on her hips, blessed by Morbuskor craftsmen, the sheaths covered in secret Ohlyrran runes. When she drew them, they would shine like sunshine on still water. They would cut through any armor.

  She was forbidden to access any of the magic items in the Illuminates Spire, but her swords were her own property. Unger had helped her fashion them, and Unger knew magic like no one else on Raxid. Unger. She hoped he was dead. Part of her knew he wasn’t.

  The stands were packed with the elite of Thera, the ptaris of the Gruul warriors, a few soldiers loyal to Gulnash, and notable faculty and staff of the Majestrial. Ziziva and The Paradise Tree, along with Ymir, had paid to have a store on either end of the stadium. They were providing puff corn, their various xocalati products, and the sweet cream. Della had made sure none of their Amora Xoca would be served. The last thing she wanted was lust to be added to the blood sport.

  Della walked across the sands, along with the other Gungarr leaders, except for Gulnash, who hadn’t even shown up yet.

  Four figures in all marched forward to a pedestal in the sand where the Fateblood Deck lay, the cards ancient, each in a silver holder. It was Ssunash’s deck, priceless beyond words. It was a thousand years old, created around the death of the vempor, when the Age of Withering started.

  Shlak, Urag, and Pargar strode out, in their iron armor, with leather and fur trappings, golden inlay, and feathered cloaks.

  It was the four of them, waiting, until the Betrayer strode out, naked except for a loincloth and leather boots reinforced with iron. He had a sword at his hip and his death’s head mace over his shoulder. His black topknot looked oiled. His body was marked with every kind of scar and slash.

  The entire stadium filled with boos and hisses and jeers.

  Sunlight winked off his steel tusk. The sun blazed overhead, hot and getting hotter. There might be fog by evening to cool the blood-soaked sands.

  Gulnash seemed to enjoy the hatred the world had for him. He strode out and stood there, arms crossed. On his hand, where his bone Focus ring had been, was a new ring, made of a clear crystal, with a single onyx stone.