Princesses of the Ironbound Boxset: Books 1 - 3 (Barbarian Outcast, Barbarian Assassin, Barbarian Alchemist)

by Aaron Crash

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  THE HONORED PRINCEPT had weathered the two months after the death of Hayleesia Heenn, but she hadn’t weathered them well.

  The eight weeks had been full of regret, disappointment, and withdrawals from kharo.

  And here Della was, with another exam week, the Fourth Exam, upon her.

  Sunday afternoon, she stood in the middle of the Librarium Citadel. Della didn’t want to go to work, but in essence, she only had two more weeks of work to go. She’d survive the last week of exams, she’d suffer through graduation, and then she’d be able to repair the pieces of her fractured life over summer break.

  Maybe. There had been talk of growing conflicts between the merfolk and the Sorrow Coast Kingdom. Before that happened, King Velis Naoar IX, of the Naoar dynasty in Kreenn, would want a meeting with the merfolk to avoid war. King Velis suggested the meeting take place at the Majestrial.

  And that might not be the only peace conference. Gulnash, the rogue orc, expressed some interest in making the journey to Old Ironbound to discuss his growing army and the carnage he’d caused on the Blood Steppes. That was odd, but Della wouldn’t turn him away.

  The Age of Isolation had been peaceful, and if the Princept could help keep that peace, she would. Yet, as most suggested, the age was ending. Demons were about. There was unrest and the threat of war. The world seemed to want to boil again.

  So, Della’s summer might very well be as chaotic as her winter.

  That winter and its cold rains had ended about a month after the Princept woke to find the half-elf professor dead in her room. The air had stunk of something worse than Haylee Heenn’s corpse. Gharam Ssornap had been pounding on her door. She wasn’t going to let those professors see the mess, and so she’d gotten her robes on, rushed down, and talked with the collection of worried teachers. Jennybelle Josen had been attacked by another demon. She was in the infirmary. Hell had broken loose.

  The Princept had spent that night putting hell back into a bottle. She put the body of the half-elf in the Scrollery, hunched over a book on demonology, and, yes, with her throat cut. The cleaning had taken forever, and she wasn’t sure what the puddle in the corner of her room had been.

  Gatha found the body of the murdered professor. The she-orc had followed the correct procedure, and only the professors knew about the death. The librarian was an odd creature, but she could be counted on. The Third Exam went on as scheduled.

  Eight weeks later no one spoke of Haylee Heenn. For most, her presence was all but forgotten. Again, Della spread a rumor, a bit of idle gossip. Professor Heenn hadn’t gotten the Studia Dux job, and she was upset. She stormed out of the Majestrial and stomped all the way back to her job at Wootash College in Panseloca. That was one story.

  Another? This one Della didn’t start, but she watched it grow. There had been another affair with Ymir, and it had ended badly. Still others thought the half-elf was behind this new brand of xocalati, the Amora Xoca, which drove people wild with lust. Few knew the truth—or Della’s version of it—that Haylee Heenn summoned demons to murder Jennybelle Josen and someone had cut her throat.

  Della had to take over Haylee’s classes, which pissed the Princept off to no end. Della sent a strongly worded sand letter to a certain Jiabelle Josen and had received no response. In the Flow magic, though, Della saw Auntie Jia coming to the school herself at some point. The Princept saw little else. There was someone in the school who was using ancient magic to block her sight. It wasn’t hard to guess who that was.

  In the Librarium, Della left her thoughts and returned to the moment. She glanced up to see Ymir in his normal place, at his table on the second floor, head over a book. That damned man. She never should’ve let him into her school. She didn’t know how he was mixed up in the Haylee Heenn business, but he was. She couldn’t prove it, but she had the idea that the barbarian had cut the half-elf’s throat himself.

  She walked up the steps to her mezzanine office and there, on the edge of her desk, was a single volume that never should’ve left the Illuminates Spire. It was a copy of Akkiric, Akkoric, Akkarotic by Derzahla Lubda. It was a mess of a book, short at least, but it had some powerful sorcery in it. Again, there was a section on the Akkiric Rings, including a page on creating one of them. Which one, Della didn’t remember. But that was why it hadn’t been in the general stacks.

  She shivered. If Ymir had snuck into her apartment to cut Haylee’s throat, he would’ve had time to plunder the Illuminates Spire. She wasn’t sure if it was fear or anger that drove her down the steps from her office, across the polished floor, and up to the second floor where she slammed the forbidden book onto the pile of books that littered the barbarian’s table.

  “You didn’t need to bring it back, thief,” she spat. “You and those damned rings piss me off. And just because you can parade around wearing the Black Ice Ring doesn’t mean I will let you make another one.” The Princept realized she was ranting. Quitting kharo had ruined her nerves. Also, there would be another investigation from the Alumni Consortium on the murder of Hayleesia Heenn. Her interest in demonology would aid in that. And Linnylynn Albatross would make a fine witness. To that end, Della had offered the Scatter Islands woman a job. Not the Moons Studia Dux—that had gone to Ibeliah Ironcoat.

  Ymir eased himself back. He motioned for her to sit.

  Della did. Why did she feel like she was interviewing for a professorship? This shouldn’t be happening.

  Ymir picked up the book. “Akkiric. Royal. Akkoric. I’m beginning to wonder if the akkor are the same as the orishas. As for that last word, Akkarotic, I’m not familiar with it. And I haven’t made another ring. Just this one. And only because Siteev Ckins suggested it.” He smiled. “I don’t suppose you’d like to tell me what it does? I have no idea.”

  “Jelu jelarum,” Della whispered. Her Focus ring lit up in a savage light. And yet, she got nothing from the clansman. Not a single image. He was the cause of her blindness.

  Ymir smirked. “I don’t think that’s very polite, casting spells on me while I sit here. But what do I know? I’m a simple barbarian from the north and hardly civilized.”

  The Princept’s Focus ring faded. “You are hardly simple, Ymir. You won’t give me a thing, will you?”

  He pointed at her right hand. “You used to have a mark there. It was the Lover’s Knot. You couldn’t help how things worked out with Haylee, so I wouldn’t blame yourself. As for the book you set down? I’ve never seen it. I do have to study for the Fourth Exam tomorrow. I’m still learning how to wield my power through my Focus ring. It hasn’t been as easy as I thought.”

  Della laughed, and it was genuine, and it felt good. “So I have you to thank for breaking the spell?”

  He shrugged. “We all have our secrets, Princept. I lived most of my life on the Ax Tundra speaking my mind, doing what was right, with my battle brothers, my woman, and my family. I didn’t need to lie, or cheat, though I did sometimes steal. I lived, loved, and laughed out in the open. Here? Here things are different. But would you like to know something?”

  Della found herself nodding, interested.

  “Part of me likes it...the intrigue.” His smile was wistful. “I never thought I would be so adept at it.”

  “You don’t miss home?” she asked.

  He paused, and his eyes went far away. “June on the Ax Tundra, and winter has finally pulled her claws from the land. There is water, so much water, and it brings the insects, life, food for the animals. The hunting is good, the days warm, and there is always light, or most of the time anyway. There are feasts, and games, and laughter. We have lived through another winter. Ilhelda’s hair is gold in the light. She smiles, and I smell her, and she smells of campfires, and summer flowers, and her own sweet self. At night I sit with my family and listen to Grandfather Bear and Grandmother Rabbit tell stories. Ilhelda and I leave to watch the sun fall to the horizon. The stars are almost visible as the lights dance across the sky.”

&
nbsp; Della felt a twitch of terror and suppressed it with a shudder. These weren’t just memories. He’d lived this moment, and recently, but there was no way an imprudens should have been able to steer the Flow so precisely.

  His gaze fell on her. “My home is gone forever. My family is gone. Ilhelda would cut my throat if she could because I’ve been poisoned by magic. Miss home? It’s nothing so prosaic as that. I feel like I’ve lost an arm. Or had my heart cut from my chest. My soul feels crippled, Princept. My very soul.” Another bittersweet smile curved his lips. “And yet, I’ve found a home here, a troubled home, and I have a family, and I don’t just have one lover, but three.”

  “You don’t mean Toriah Welldeep from the kitchen,” Della said, burying the unease she now felt around him, at what her unwashed little barbarian was becoming. “The Morbuskor don’t mix with other races lightly. Then again, Toriah is a beardless dwab.”

  Ymir shrugged. “I don’t need to tell you who I fuck.”

  “You don’t.” The Princept inhaled and regained her self-control. Heaven knew, when she masturbated that night, she’d think of nothing else. Having a lover, even for a single night, had been so much more satisfying than her own fingers. However, the aftermath wasn’t worth those moments of pleasure. She’d buy a new glass phallus and that would be fun for a while. And she had her very active imagination, as well as her memories.

  “So,” Della said, “in this family, who am I? The mother? A cold aunt? Don’t you dare call me the kindly grandmother.”

  Ymir smiled at her, and it was warm, friendly, and showed some genuine affection. “I don’t believe you are any of those things. Perhaps the strong but austere older sister, always watching for some impropriety, but also always there to fix things. You aren’t afraid to punish us, but you will feed us in the end, for we are your troublesome brothers and sisters.”

  “Did you kill Haylee Heenn?” Della asked.

  His smile didn’t dim. “Ask me no questions. I will tell you no lies. After my first adventures here at Old Ironbound, you threatened to kill me if I delved into forbidden magic. I’m still alive, and my soul isn’t tainted. After this latest trouble, let’s let this year end with us as friends.”

  “We can’t be friends,” the Princept said. “I’m not your older sister. I’m not your mother. I’m your Princept. And while I care about you and your studies, I care about this school more. I had a lapse in judgement this semester. As you have said, I was ensorcelled. Next year, if you return for your second year, my head will be clear, and I will unravel the magic that hides you. I’ll take a closer look at the Obanathy cantrips that I foolishly allowed you to study. I find it interesting that they are near the Scrolls of Octovato. It was a mistake to put them in the Scrollery. I’ve had them and the Obanathy spells moved to the Illuminates Spire.”

  Ymir shrugged. “I enjoyed Octovato’s four volume set on mathematics.”

  She showed her displeasure. “I will be putting a ward on all the entrances to my chambers. You won’t be able to sneak up there again.”

  Another shrug. “I’m sure you’ll be very safe. And I will be returning next year. Also, I have the rest of my tuition. I’ll keep my sea cell, though I don’t sleep there much anymore.”

  Della stood. She wouldn’t get much more from him. She did want to leave with one last barb. “No, but your sea cell is a good place for you to store supplies for your xocalati business. I must warn you that if you make enough money, the Undergem Guild will send their agents to make sure you become a member.”

  “I worry more about the Midnight Guild than the Undergem Guild,” Ymir said. “The merchants only want my money. This other guild wants my life. You wouldn’t happen to know much about such a secret organization, would you?”

  “It’s rumor,” Della said. She wasn’t about to admit anything to the clansman. “What’s not rumor? There are fairies who make their competitors disappear. Fairies aren’t to be trusted, especially when money is concerned.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Ymir’s eyes, though, said he didn’t believe her. “We’ll have more of these conversations over the summer, I’m sure. Me, Jenny, and Lillee are staying.”

  “Perhaps.” The Princept touched his shoulder. She bent and whispered into his ear, “The Flow suite is expensive. Jennybelle will lose all of her money. I don’t think you can sell enough xocalati to keep the suite and pay for everyone. I think you three will be cleaning toilets and living in the sea alley next year.”

  She laughed a little. He smelled good, and he was warm. She and Ymir would never sleep together, but she could fantasize all she wanted. Then again, she’d thought the same about Haylee, and her faith in herself was shaken.

  He laughed as well. “I like your whispers far more than your threats.”

  “If you only knew how much of a threat I am.” She walked off, feeling better than she had when her evening began.

  She didn’t have any proof, but she was sure she owed Ymir—for breaking the spell on her, for exposing the half-elf as the demon-summoning villain she was, and for removing Haylee Heenn from her school.

  Questions remained. What was the nature of the Black Ice Ring? And why was the Midnight Guild interested in Ymir? Perhaps they saw him as too dangerous to keep alive.

  They might not be wrong. Ymir wasn’t going to be easy to tame. He was delving into sorcery that could very well destroy him. And if he was, he had more than demons to worry about. Della Pennez had killed before, and she would again.

  But if it came to that, she’d cast a Lover’s Knot spell of her own. She’d sample Ymir before she ended him. Both thoughts put an illicit thrill in her. That tingle between her legs felt much better than smoking kharo.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  YMIR STRODE ACROSS the Flow courtyard on a little errand. It was late Friday afternoon, the sun was shining, and the Fourth Exams were over. He’d survived his imprudens year.

  The last months of his life had been peaceful except for the dreams. The night brought him visions of the Ax Tundra, his battle brothers, Ilhelda, and his grandparents. It was like his soul wanted to return home. Was the Veil Tear Ring having an effect on him? He thought not. The dreams didn’t have disembodied voices warning him of hellhounds. No, the dreams were his mind shaking off the past as a snake sheds dead skin.

  The visions of his homeland would pass like Jennybelle’s nightmares passed. She now woke up rested in their big bed with Ymir and Lillee next to her. The clansman would kiss them both good morning. He didn’t feel sad that he’d been exiled. He looked forward to the day: Jenny’s gossip and laughter, listening to Lillee sing, and watching Tori’s cheerful face as she worked the front counter of the feasting hall.

  He did well in both his Third and Fourth Exams. Unlike the other tests he’d taken, he remembered them clearly. Again, he wondered if this was because of his new ring. In both cases no one tried to sabotage him. Some of the scholars failed one or the other, and their time at Old Ironbound was over. Everyone Ymir knew, both his beloved and those he despised, had passed the exams, however.

  The Third Exam had tested both his geometry and his Flow magic. The examination room had been a series of octagon platforms. He had to create ice bridges across the platforms while remembering combat tactics from the Age of Discord and unraveling a riddle concerning Obanathy’s famous sonnets on marriage. The one with the cursed bride and dead groom wasn’t among the poems. The Third Exam forced him to face a golem crafted from wood and bronze. After using his Flow magic to gain access to a sword, he realized that the golem wouldn’t drop unless he struck it in certain places on certain platforms. One octagonal platform had the sigil of the great Akkridorian vempor on the floor. Aeno Akkridor said that when possible, strike your opponent twice in the heart and once in the throat. However, another platform had quotes from an Obanathy sonnet that suggested all great marriages start in the head, rather than the heart. Ymir struck the golem in the head on the Obanathy platform and three times on the Aeno octag
on, thus winning his way across the room.

  For Ymir, the Fourth Exam had been the most challenging, but it had also been the most fun. In that exam, he had to use his Focus ring to control an army of paper golems, hundreds of figures, each about six inches tall and crafted from black paper. They fought an army of green paper troops who came swarming down a hillside crafted into the room, a rather rudimentary recreation of the western slope of the Sunrise Mountains. Aegel Akkridor had won the Battle of the Borador Slope, defeating a coalition of elves, dwarves, and orcs. In this simulation, Ymir was Aegel, commanding the black troops. Ymir used the same techniques as the famous vempor to crush his enemies. Mostly it was by creating ice walls that drove the enemy paper troops right into the main phalanx of his soldiers. However, Ymir also used his Focus ring to freeze the paper arrows of the tiny green archers. Historically, the vempor had used Form magic and Moons magic to protect his forces. He’d been a brilliant tactician and a powerful sorcerer—not powerful enough, though, because in the end, someone slayed the famed Aegel Akkridor. Who that was? No one could agree, but Ymir had his theories.

  Suffice to say, he passed his two exams after memorizing more poetry than he thought was good for him. He ended the year with a Focus ring, and he was already considering his schedule once September came around.

  He had to smile at the memory of Professor Issa Leel’s surprise and disgust. When Leel was passing out the Focus rings several weeks before the Fourth Exam, Ymir hadn’t taken the offered jewelry. Instead, he slipped the Black Ice Ring on his finger. Of course, Leel went screaming to Della.

  The Princept insisted on checking the Black Ice Ring again to look for signs of any kind of dark magic, but as far as she could tell, it was a simple piece of magical jewelry. She had Brodor Bootblack, Ibeliah Ironcoat, and Issa Leel also check it. They came up with the same evaluation.