by Aaron Crash
Gatha stopped and let out a curse.
Tori couldn’t see, but she heard Charibda Delphino shout, “Uncle, stop!”
Gatha raced forward, her sandals slapping the floor.
Near the feasting hall’s entrance, a huge merman stood towering over Ymir. That was Marrib Delphino, come to visit his niece. Marrib was dressed in strange clothes, red and gold, that covered most of his torso, including his arms, but stopped mid-thigh. The rest of his legs and feet were bare. Then it struck Tori—he had to shift the bottom half of himself. Any sort of pantaloon or shoe would get in the way.
Marrib wasn’t empty handed, however. He threatened Ymir with a long, ornate trident. The clansman had his silver dagger in his fist, and his eyes were an icy blue. Those were his fighting eyes.
Jenny and Lillee stood off to the side.
Gatha wasn’t about to let the barbarian get speared. Her tusks snapped out of her mouth, parting the grim smile on her green lips. She sped over.
From out of the feasting hall came two more mermen, equally bearded but so strange with their big, wide-set bulging eyes, their squiddy ears, and the three bone ridges on their skulls. They came at Ymir with the butt end of their tridents, to pummel him into submission.
Ymir swiveled so the two guards weren’t at his back.
Gatha struck the pair of fish men like a living weapon. She deftly dodged one attack and then another. She plucked the weapon from one of the mermen with a speed that defied sight. She spun, drove the shaft into his gut, and then whirled on her left foot while smacking a sandal into the face of the other. One was down, gripping his belly, unable to breathe. The other was out cold in a puddle of blood sprinkled with broken teeth.
Gatha, spinning her stolen trident, moved like a warrior goddess to stand next to Ymir. Her tusks were out and sweat shone on her face.
By this time, Charibda had run to separate the two. “Uncle! Call off your men! Ymir, Gatha, stand back this instant. How dare you hurt my uncle’s guards?”
The one had gotten his breath back, and he helped his comrade up. They came for Gatha, who stood ready to strike them down again. This time she might not leave them with hearts still beating.
Tori stood back to watch.
Marrib lifted a webbed hand the size of Tori’s head. “Morb. Ubor. Back away. My niece has known enough death in her time. We don’t need to kill her friends.”
Ever the pain in the butt, Charibda cackled. “They aren’t my friends, Uncle! I wouldn’t be friends with any of these muddies. But it doesn’t help our cause, now does it? We have a peace, and we have a deal, and we shouldn’t risk that over some stinky barbarian and an even stinkier she-orc.”
Ymir smiled. “I like how you smell, Gatha. Don’t take it personally.”
“I like how I smell as well,” the she-orc said with a smile to equal the barbarian’s.
Tall, huge, Marrib towered over them all. The Ocean Father Divine hissed, revealing a mouthful of fangs behind the blue foam of his great beard. “You keep getting in my way, barbarian. And each time, you don’t use your magic. I am wondering if you have any at all. Perhaps everything I’ve heard about you is mere rumor.”
Ymir shrugged. “I did sweep more floors here than I’m comfortable discussing. Perhaps I am in the wrong place. Or perhaps you haven’t forced me to use my magic, fish man. You don’t seem that difficult to deal with.”
Tori winced, expecting the worse.
Marrib, though, simply laughed and laughed as he strutted away with his guards.
Then it was Charibda’s turn to roar. She marched over and thrust her face into Ymir’s. “We’re not fish people! And you leave us alone! You do smell!” The mermaid flung herself around and screeched at everyone who was looking at her. “All you dirt worms smell!”
She then hurried away, as embarrassed as she was angry.
Tori shook her head and sighed. “Oh, Ribby. Being your only friend here sure is a full-time job.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
TORIAH WELLDEEP JOINED Ymir and Gatha as they hurried through the rain to Jenny’s apartment. They had to talk about the fight with Marrib, but they were also going to discuss the Yellow Scorch Ring. They had the bone, and now they needed a Rendlim Funnel. That wasn’t going to be easy. Professor Bootblack guarded them, and they were relatively rare. The rest of the components they needed, or thought they needed, were easier to get. Vinegar, for example, came from the kitchen.
Ymir stoked the fire in Jenny’s room, while Tori started making kaif for those who wanted it and mulled wine for Jennybelle, who always wanted wine. The dwab had bought another stepping stool, which allowed her to work at Jenny’s stove.
The clansman briefly explained his unfortunate encounter with the merman in the Librarium. “I was simply coming out of the feasting hall when he pushed me. He wanted a fight.” He sat on the sofa with Jenny and Lillee on either side of him.
Gatha stood at the window, arms crossed, peering into the rainy night. “He is testing you. He mentioned magic because you scare everyone, Ymir. A barbarian with a dusza makes people nervous. Perhaps the merfolk will attack this place to kill you. Maybe they don’t want the Fractal Clock.”
“Which isn’t here anymore,” Tori said. “Officially. I spread the word. Even worked the rumor into some Amora Xoca sales.” She got the cream and beet sprinkles ready for her own kaif. Lillee liked her kaif black as pitch.
Ymir leaned forward. “We don’t know what Marrib wants. However, we have a way of learning more.”
Tori talked while she served drinks. “You mean the Veil Tear Ring, Mr. Man, I know you do. I’ll put it on right now. We can try it out.”
“Or I could put it on,” Lillee offered quietly. “I sketched the picture.”
The dwab gave the quiet elf her kaif. “It was my blood, though. It might work better. This newest ring mentions the ringmaker’s blood. And, Lil, I have to say, I’d really like to try it. Please?”
The Sullied elf frowned. Her pretty face was so worried it kind of broke Tori’s heart. “If anything happened to you, your parents would be so hurt. My father wouldn’t care.”
“Yep,” Tori agreed. “I got lucky with an ahmer and an oober who love me. But you have a family here now. I do too, and I’d like to fight to protect it. I can use that ring to find Ymir’s assassin and to maybe figure out what the merfolk are really after.”
She got her own mug of kaif and sat on her stool. “So, let’s say we try it.” She sipped the sweet, creamy mixture. She wanted to try mixing kaif with xocalati. And she had to repeat what she did before, the xocalati puff corn balls. They could sell those and make a fortune.
Ymir dug into the special little pouch he’d sewn into his belt. He tossed the ring to Tori, who caught it. She thought the dull metal ring, painted with black runes, was wet. Then she remembered that Ymir said it always felt damp.
She didn’t much like how clammy it was. No, she was being silly. Like Gatha said, this was a tool. She set her mug down next to her and slipped on the ring.
“Wait!” There was a chorus of voices, but Tori figured any task was better begun than fretted over. And Ymir had talked about his experience.
Everything was a roar, and she was blinded with noise and radiance. It took a second, but she got used to the voices of all the people coming in and out of the apartment. The sky opened, and sometimes it was day, and sometimes it was night. Then a line of light cut through reality. That cut bled so much brilliance Tori had to squint. Only it wasn’t her eyes—she wasn’t in her body anymore. She was now a little woman made of light. She raised her thick fingers and worked them. This was her pure spirit, the life force that animated her flesh.
The stench of the hellhound—fire and shit—filled her senses. This was all going like Ymir had described.
Right on cue, the Akkir Akkor spoke to her. Their voices, staggeringly loud, crushed her spectral ears. TORIAH WELLDEEP. WE HAVE KNOWN YOUR BLOOD. WE HAVE KNOWN YOUR MINUTES AND YOUR MILES AND YOUR SORROW.
YOU ARE DESTINED TO CRAFT RINGS, AND WE WISH YOU WELL IN YOUR CRAFTING. ALWAYS HAVE WE RESPECTED THOSE OF THE ROCK, THOSE OF THE STONE. WE SHALL HOLD THE BEAST BACK FOR YOU WHILE YOU WORK. FOR WE HAVE ALWAYS RESPECTED THOSE WHO DO THE WORK.
Was it many voices or one voice? Tori couldn’t tell.
“Well, bless my stone bits, aren’t you kind? I’ll get to it, then.” She focused on moving back and forth through time, careful not to go into the future—the hellhound would find her if she went into the future.
Her present self was being held by Ymir, and there was worry in his heart. His past stretched back behind him. She found herself with him in a forest, when he was alone, on his way to Old Ironbound. Then she saw him, naked and sweating, grinning as he grabbed the Winterhome tavern girl’s hips as he slammed himself into her. She hurried away from that image, going back in time. She saw him oaring his boat across the Frozen Sea. Before that? His father wept a single tear when he sent his son away. And then there was the Lonely Man, and the fight that cursed him. The words roared in Tori’s head: I curse you. I curse you forever. Let the sleeper wake from the dream!
Poor Ymir, he would’ve been so happy to live his life on the Ax Tundra and die with his Ilhelda, who was surprisingly plain. Tori didn’t mean to be petty, but she had expected Ilhelda to be so much prettier than Ymir’s current women.
Back in the present, a thousand miles away from the Ax Tundra, Gatha grabbed Tori’s hand. The she-orc was going to take the ring off.
Tori could’ve fought her, but she didn’t need to. Everything took a fraction of a moment to do. And the Akkir Akkor were helping keep the beast at bay. She could smell it, but she couldn’t see it yet. An errant growl ripped through her ears. That made her blink in surprise.
The dwab felt the she-orc’s hand on her, but all of their lives were so entwined—Gatha’s, Ymir’s, Lillee’s, Jenny’s. The Flow of life and thrown them together.
Tori slipped into Lillee’s life—her music, her songs, her sketches. She had agreed to help Gatha with one of her books because Lillee liked to take off her essess and draw the dirty pictures. She’d then masturbate like crazy, and she didn’t tell anyone else. To her, it was a secret life she enjoyed. To tell Jenny and Ymir might ruin it.
For Lillee, sometimes it was just fun to lose herself in the fantasy and pleasure of her own fingers.
Then the dwab got a glimpse into Jennybelle’s life and her pain. She truly loved Ymir, and in her heart, she didn’t mind sharing him. That was so different from Tori. It hurt the dwab, hurt her bad, to really see how different she was from Jenny. Would she ever be able to accept that she’d never have Ymir all to herself? She ran from the pain—it was easy to do because this ring was amazing. She could see things with such clarity.
Gatha had such a beautiful dusza, brighter than the others. She was special, she was powerful, but Tori knew that. It was easy to ride Gatha’s spirit back through the minutes of her life.
It was back in springtime, in another year, far across the continent of Thera. Gatha stood in an arena, and not just any arena, but the Ssunash Arena. Gatha’s own voice broke through Tori’s ears: For the Gruul, the Pits are everything. The entire city surrounds the Ssunash Arena. It is the center of life, the obsession of my people...
That was from when she talked with Ymir, when she so desperately wanted to connect with him. Yes, Gatha had a mighty soul, but she’d cracked it along the way. In some ways, she was as crippled as she was strong.
However, the warrior woman that Tori saw in the Ssunash Arena looked anything but crippled. She stood with two swords, both bloody, over a fallen she-orc. Tens of thousands of hard-hearted Gruul were up on their feet, screaming at her. All those voices carried so much energy.
Gatha had two swords because she’d taken one of them from her opponent, her enemy, her sister. Mirigg of Ssunash.
A viewing platform jutted out from the normal stands. On the platform sat the royalty of the city state of Ssunash. There sat Gatha’s father, the Chieftain Shlak of Ssunash. He was a huge older Gruul, losing his hair, with one tusk broken, but still so muscled. Around him were his many pretty wives. One had red hair going gray, but the same rose-colored eyes as Gatha. That was her ahmer...Gatha’s ahmer, Ghrinna. She was a fiendish thing, tusks out, so full of hate and jealousy it was hard to look upon her.
She’s not a mother...she’s a broken toy, Tori thought. There was never any love in her heart.
A young orc warrior stood with the family, though he wasn’t one of them. This boy was Donnalg, and he was tall, thickly muscled, with jet-black hair and eyes like midnight darkness. He was snarling at Gatha’s mother, spitting while he talked in the harsh language of the orcs. Don’t make her do it, you fucking bitch. Don’t make her!
Shlak the Ssunash chieftain stood and roared, This is the Kurzig Durgha, Gatha! This is to the death! This father, this chieftain, wouldn’t have his daughter betray the steel-strong customs of his people. They had to follow the rules, or there would be chaos.
The entire arena fell silent.
Gatha stood in the bloody sand. She wore thick leather armor, spiked and studded, for additional protection. Her white hair was dripping with sweat, knotted with dried gore, both her own and that of the many she’d killed that day.
This was the Kurzig Durgha—this was the death grudge tournament. The fight didn’t end with first blood. The fight didn’t end with maiming or pummeling. The fight ended in death.
Gatha stood, bloody and bleeding, and weeping. Tears rolled down her face as she held the two swords.
And the woman in front of her? She had the white hair, red with spilled blood. She had the rose-colored eyes, a family trait. In her eyes burned hate. She’d have chopped up her sister without a second thought. Mirigg too loved Donnalg. Every stone-damned woman in that family loved Donnalg Sterllig Gowgin.
The arena knew it. They wanted to see this fight between the daughters of the chieftain. Gatha and Mirigg were the best of the best, without a doubt. They’d killed a dozen women apiece over the years to stand on that sand. The entire city was there to see the drama.
Not the entire city, Tori realized. Migdish, Gatha’s friend, wasn’t there, nor were her parents, who normally loved the Pits. Not this horror. Not this fight, orchestrated by an insidious mother who was broken, and all the love in her life had leaked out the cracks.
Tori wanted to look away. She wanted to close her eyes. But she didn’t have eyes to close.
Gatha was sobbing, wailing, but her aim was true. She hewed her own sister’s head off her shoulders.
And Donnalg drew his curved sword to cut down the chieftess. He was going to butcher Ghrinna, the evil woman who wanted to watch her own daughters kill each other.
The chieftain, Shlak, still had some of his old speed. He drew his own sword and stabbed Gatha’s lovely Donnalg right through his very kind, very pure heart.
Victorious but shattered, Gatha fell to her knees in the sand as the entire arena erupted in a single bloodthirsty howl.
Back in Jennybelle’s apartment, the she-orc removed the Veil Tear Ring from Tori’s finger.
The little woman burst into tears. “Oh, Gatha, I saw what happened. You didn’t have a choice. I know it probably didn’t feel like that at the time, but you didn’t. Oh, your mother, that Ghrinna, was bad. Maybe the Akkir Akkor are demons, but I don’t think they’d even do that to their own kin.”
The she-orc staggered back. The ring dropped to plink off the stone floor. Gatha’s green face was nearly white. “What are you saying? How do you know this?”
Tori had felt it all so keenly, how terrible that day had been when the arena flowed with family blood. The Gruul sometimes needed the Kurzig Durgha. But even the Gruul knew that things had been perverted by the chieftess. And the old chieftain was quick and wily, wily enough to kill the orc who should’ve been his son-in-law but too blinded by the chieftess to see she was the poisonous snake in his bed.
“I’m sorry,” Tori wept. �
�I know you’d take it back if you could. You’d break the rules like the archaka did from that play you like. You never wanted to kill Mirigg. You’d thought it would all turn out so differently.”
“Shut your fucking mouth, dwab!” Gatha roared, her tusks out and her eyes crazed. “Shut it or I will cut your fucking tongue out!”
Ymir leapt to his feet because the she-orc went for Tori, who shrank back against the cupboards.
Lillee was crying too hard to do a thing. As for Jenny, she had the Sapphire Fang out. There was treachery in the eyes of the swamp woman, and a coldness there that was a little chilling.
Their little family had crumbled, and it was Tori’s fault.
The little woman tried to run, but she stumbled and fell. She couldn’t get to her feet. She was weeping too hard. That ring let her feel everything. All that sorrow at once was too much for her. Killing her sister had killed a part of Gatha. And losing Donnalg on top of it? On the same day? No, it had been too much.
Gatha flung Ymir away like he was a doll. The she-orc stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
Tori closed her eyes and let herself cry and cry. She’d always thought she’d had the worst life of anyone ever. That wasn’t at all true. All in all, she’d been rich, and she’d been tolerated, and sure, some of the other kids teased her, but most of the Morbuskor were kind because she was so ugly. Hard to tease someone who never had a chance. Most folks weren’t that cruel.
But Ymir? Being tossed out of the Black Wolf Clan?
And Gatha? Forced to kill her sister in the Kurzig Durgha? And her mother had set the whole thing up. There was more to the story there, far more, but Tori knew chances were they’d never learn it.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
YMIR FOUND HIMSELF having to deal with Drippy again, otherwise known as Stini Chemervic, the Farmington girl who lived in the Zoo and worked in the Librarium. She was nice enough, if a little too mousey for Ymir to take seriously.
