Barbarian Gladiator (Princesses of the Ironbound Book 4)

by Aaron Crash

  Let the sleeper wake from the dream!

  It was a phrase in many, many books. It could mean anything and anyone. Was Ymir the sleeper? Or was the Lonely Man? Or was it Sarina Sia?

  No, the Lonely Man wanted Ymir. His vision had confirmed that. He pondered using the Veil Tear Ring, either himself or Tori. The Akkir Akkor, those strange beings that stood outside time and space, had also suggested that Lillee could use it since she’d drawn the sketches they’d used to fashion that ring.

  However, Fluffy the hellhound was not a creature to take lightly. They’d have to use the Veil Tear eventually to find out more about the Lonely Man. He wasn’t just some demon, Ymir was certain of it.

  The Lonely Man had been watching Ymir. It knew of Ymir’s night bear hunt, an event that had forever marked him. He and his battle brothers had hunted the monster down, a thing that hungered for souls, not for blood and meat like a normal bear.

  That winter had been especially harsh and long. Some of the Black Wolf Clan went mad. A bad winter. A worse hunt.

  Ymir didn’t want to remember. He didn’t want to relive those days out in the black, windy darkness of the tundra or those terrible minutes of cold terror in the Crack. He didn’t want to tell anyone that story.

  But his Grandmother Rabbit’s words came back to him. The wounds in our hearts will fester unless spoken aloud. We heal through our mouths because, for some things, there is no better salve than words.

  He’d have to put that story into words. He had plenty of friends to discuss it with, yet he resisted. Maybe the Lonely Man was lying, or perhaps the vision was merely wishful thinking. Wouldn’t it be nice for his curse to be part of some grand scheme?

  He knew the truth. And so had Sarina Sia. Stories, legends, history—it was all coming together in his lifetime. He could feel it, and so could the Midnight Guild. Death is a circle with no beginning and no end. Eternity longs for death. All days will die. Night will reign supreme. Or so the Lonely Man said.

  It seemed certain that the Midnight Guild was in league with the dark forces of the world. Yet, Ymir wasn’t about to jump to any conclusions. He did wonder what Professor Linnylynn Albatross might know about his vision. He might also get help with the Circulum text from her. She was both an expert at Moons magic and an expert in demonic lore. And so far, she and her White Rose Society seemed harmless. They hadn’t tried to murder him...yet.

  All of these things buzzed through Ymir’s head as he drank the kaif.

  Toriah Welldeep was right. He had to focus on his Fourth Exam first, then he could tackle the Gather Breath Ring. He figured he’d learn the Lonely Man’s true nature in time. More pressing were Ymir’s memories of that night bear hunt. He’d have to summon the courage to talk about that bad winter night at the very dawn of his adulthood.

  Grandfather Bear said that the tundra’s freezing winds stripped the childhood from people, leaving them lean, spare adults, already wrinkled by the elements.

  He turned and trudged back up to the second floor to join the four women. He sat, picked up his own grimoire, and paged through books that might help him prepare for the Fourth Exam. Tori had been smart enough to bring an Alchemist’s Rack, which she had stowed in her huge leather case.

  They studied, took a break for dinner, but then soon returned, all five of them, lost in a sea of books, notes, and alchemical powders.

  Ymir was rubbing his eyes when they had an unexpected visitor.

  Charibda, the mermaid princess, came tromping up the steps. She came over, frowning, her little red mouth puckered. An angry storm filled her dark green eyes, so dark they almost looked brown. Seven feet tall, she was thin with white skin speckled with scales here and there. A purple stripe marked her light blue hair, which was spread about her in a luscious wave. She wasn’t wearing her Moon robes, but a shimmering white gown.

  She looked at all the women without saying a word. Then the mermaid focused on Ymir. She let out a sigh that soon turned into a very unladylike grunt. “Fine. You’re pretty enough. We should all fuck.”

  Ymir hadn’t expected that.

  Chapter Three

  YMIR PINCHED THE BRIDGE of his nose. He’d been drinking kaif and reading all day, and now there was this mermaid demanding something unlikely, because no one except for Tori liked this bitter harpy from the sea.

  The dwab colored and winced.

  Jennybelle’s blue eyes flashed dangerously. These were the dramatics the swamp woman lived for. “Excuse me. I’m going to need to hear that one more time. You what now?”

  Lillee put a hand on Jenny’s arm. “Please, we might have misunderstood her. Find some kindness.”

  Charibda stuck her hand on her hip. “You all heard me. I couldn’t make it more plain. I want to have sex with you all, together, because I’m fairly certain that is the arrangement. Other boys have their harems, but they don’t consist of royalty. Besides, you all are outcasts. I’m an outcast. And I’m very stressed. This will help me.”

  “Help you...” Jenny blinked. Ymir saw it. She was about to attack. Ribby might not survive.

  Gatha let out a snarl, started piling books on top of one another, and walked away.

  Charibda sighed out her annoyance. “Well, I’m not sure I would’ve wanted that green woman’s sweat on me anyway. Good riddance. What of the rest of you?”

  “No, sweetie, sorry.” Jenny didn’t hide the condescension in her voice. “It’s not going to happen. You’re horrible.”

  “I’m beautiful!” Charibda returned passionately. “I know it. I see the boys here looking at me. And the girls. I’m exotic. And I have a special sex power you don’t even know about.” She raised her hand. “Fine, you are out, Jennybelle Josen. And good riddance to you also. Now, that leaves us with the dwab and the elven slut, so slutty she has an S tattoo. Do you want to see my special sex power?”

  Lillee, though, had her head down, her hand covering the S tattoo.

  Tori rose to her feet. “Gosh, Ribby, you have the tact of a rock hargen in a glassblower’s shop.” She hooked an arm around the mermaid’s leg and tried to drag her off. “We can talk more someplace else.”

  Charibda moved away from Tori and knelt in front of Ymir. Her dark green eyes were defiant. “You have the final say. You’re the man of the harem. Will you invite me into your bed?”

  Ymir leaned forward and touched the mermaid’s soft hair. He almost expected the blue of her hair to come off on his fingers. No, it was simply her hair color. It was soft and fine, and he pushed it behind one delicate ear.

  The mermaid’s defiance faded for an instant, replaced by a lonely look of need. This poor girl was dying of loneliness, yet she couldn’t ask for help. There was a weakness in her, and she hid it with a mask of strength, not even skin-deep.

  Ymir searched her face for a second more before leaning back. “If you can win the favor of my friends, you will win my favor. That is where you should begin.”

  Charibda’s face twisted in anger. “I was stupid to come here and lower myself. The truth is, I am far beyond you and your whores. I’m a princess of the grand Delphino family, the daughter of the Ocean Mother Divine, and you should be honored I would offer my body to you. Stupid! You’re all so stupid!”

  Jennybelle laughed. “I do believe this girl should do more looking in the mirror and less pointing fingers. Stupid is as stupid does.”

  Tori grabbed Charibda’s hand. “Come now, Ribby. We can go to the feasting hall, get you something to eat. I mean, we’re all stressed with this darn Fourth Exam coming up.”

  “Don’t call me Ribby!” The mermaid stomped away. But surprisingly, she turned, grabbed Tori, and pulled the dwab along after her. They disappeared down the steps.

  Jennybelle got up and kissed the S on the elven woman’s temple. “You might be a slut, but you’re our slut.”

  Lillee brightened and gave Jenny a smile. “Thank you. But we shouldn’t be mean to her. She is hurting and alone, and she can’t blame us land people anymore for th
e many deaths in her family. It wasn’t us. It was her uncle. And it was as evil as it was tragic.”

  Jenny gave the elf a big hug. “Your kindness goes straight to the bone, girl. If you can find compassion for Ribrib, you can find compassion for anyone.”

  Ymir grinned. “I must say, I am very curious about her special sex power. I might have to forgo my own good sense to find out what it is.”

  “Do men have good sense?” Jenny asked sarcastically.

  “When it comes to the oheesy? Not many do,” Ymir agreed. “Do you think she can win your favor, Jenny?”

  “Ribby?” Jennybelle burst out laughing. “Ribrib? She snores, I’ve heard her belch like a drunk sailor in the feasting hall, and then there’s her general bitchiness. She’s pretty, granted, but her personality is pure poison. I bet we could coat our knives with her blood and slay giants.”

  “What about you, Lillee?” Ymir asked.

  The elf woman didn’t answer for a long time. When she did, she grinned shyly. “I’m curious about her. If she came to me, honestly, to talk, I wouldn’t push her away. However, she is so coarse. It would take a change in her. Perhaps she can’t change.”

  Ymir thought that was the truth of it. Someone like the mermaid would spend their lives forever pushing others away even when they longed for a connection. Such people didn’t survive on the tundra. There was little patience for anyone who was so self-absorbed. Grandmother Rabbit called it self-blindness. Literally, they were blinded by their own pain and need.

  Grandfather Bear called them poisoned people. They were poison, and they poisoned others, just as Jennybelle said.

  Gatha returned after shelving the first armful of books. She stacked up another set. She’d heard them talking. “I’d be surprised if that bitch told us anything about herself or her people. I’ve read extensively about the sexuality of the races on Raxid, on this continent, on the southern continent, and Ethra to the west. The merfolk are shrouded in mystery, which isn’t surprising because no one likes them. Or trusts them. For good reason.” Gatha motioned to the scars on her face, which were fading, but her left eyebrow was cut, and she had a bit of her lip still grooved. “I do know some things. For one, they were struck by the Withering as well. The men have many wives in their underwater palaces, and their mating rituals are intense.” She paused, nodding. “Perhaps it might be worth the abuse she would give us to get a greater understanding of her people and how they fuck.”

  Ymir smiled widely. “And that is why I like you, Gatha of the books, Gatha of the green skin. You have a certain view of the world that is very matter of fact. We’ll see if Charibda can win your heart. That would surprise me.”

  The she-orc turned serious. Again, she came close, to stare into his eyes. The Farrg Panng. “I swore never to give my heart to anyone ever again. You won it, Ymir. Remember, how I hated you and your women...even as I found myself falling in love with you all. I was igptoor. I am no longer igptoor. All things are possible.”

  She scooped up another set of books and returned to shelving them.

  Tori walked up the stairs, alone, and went to the table. She started collecting her things and stuffing them back into the leather satchel. “Gosh me underground, but that Ribby isn’t going to get any easier to deal with. I have to say, even if I was in my Inconvenience, I can’t wrap my head around sex with her. Gosh, it’s a bad thing to say, and we all know how crazy I get when I’m Inconvenient.”

  “Crazy sexy,” Jennybelle drawled.

  Tori chuckled. “I think we’re good. I’m going to go back to the Zoo and study more with Ribby. Are we good, Ymir?”

  “Good enough,” he agreed. “I’m not worried about the alchemy. I’m a little concerned about knowing the general layout of Castle SkyReach in Four Roads. That was where Aegel Akkridor was slain on the Night of Fire. I’ll review before I go to sleep.”

  Jenny and Lillee were too tired to stay, so they all kissed and said their goodbyes. The dwab went back to the Zoo on the Moons side of campus. The rambling apartment hung off the edge of the cape’s southern cliffs and had commanding views of Angel Bay and the town of StormCry below.

  The swamp woman and the elf girl went back to Jennybelle’s suite in the Flow apartments. They had it for another two weeks. Ymir had enough money to pay for the place through the summer, but he wasn’t sure that was what he wanted. With him and four women, it was too crowded. He had other ideas in mind for housing.

  Hours later, Ymir was alone when he closed his last book. He felt ready for the Fourth Exam, but the test seemed silly now. He’d promised Gatha to leave the tome on her desk on the ground floor. He did that and then looked up. Della Pennez was at her desk on the mezzanine level of the Librarium. A Sunfire lantern glowed, lighting up her face. Short white hair, soft features, round ears, and almond-shaped eyes—she was half elven, which meant she had a longer than usual life, but she never wore the essess. Did that mean she had a human’s sex drive? Or an elf’s?

  She caught him staring. She nodded. He nodded back.

  There was an exhaustion to her, a weight that put bags under her eyes and made her entire demeanor shadowed.

  Ymir walked up the steps to see what might be chewing on Old Ironbound’s Princept. Not that she would tell him, but he enjoyed the games they played.

  He sat down in one of the chairs in front of her desk.

  She sighed at him. “You need to be invited to sit, clansman. I didn’t invite you. Why are you bothering me?”

  “You look exhausted,” he said. “And you look like something is wrong. My grandmother said that we heal through our mouths. I will listen.”

  “Didn’t Swordwrite claim that words can be the greatest salve for a troubled heart?” She frowned. She looked older now, her skin wrinkled and aged. What was wrong with her?

  “He did indeed,” Ymir agreed. “That would be from Rex Lera, which I found to be rather histrionic, even for Swordwrite.”

  “The mad king, talking to his fool.” A playful light filled Della’s eyes. “I would be the king. You would be the fool. And I think you too are troubled, clansman. Perhaps you should go first. Tell me your sorrows.”

  “I have four women in my life,” he said. “I do not have time for sorrows of my own.”

  “And would you have room in your heart for a fifth?” she asked.

  “Are your nights lonely, Honored Princept?” His question was wolfish.

  She laughed. “Never that lonely. Never. I am not Sarina Sia. You know of her, don’t you?”

  This was dangerous ground to walk upon. Sarina’s ghost was far from restful, and there was a good chance her specter might tell Della about the five rings he’d fashioned. However, Ymir decided the best way through the trap was to march right into the heart of it. “Sarina Sia, an elven Princept, who became Princept during the Age of Withering. Gatha spoke of the orgies in the Scrollery...To think, to turn a torture chamber into a feasting table for the senses. Yes.”

  Della stared into his eyes. “She slept with students. With faculty. With whoever caught her fancy. I am no Sarina Sia, nor will I ever be.”

  He pointed to her sculpted left arm, which had such good muscle definition for a woman of her age. “And yet, you don’t wear the cuff. Rumor has it you’re half elven, which would explain your longevity. Or do you have an Akkiric Ring keeping you forever young?”

  “You are the ring maker,” Della said.

  He showed her the Black Ice Ring on his left finger. “Just the one. Care to recommend any books that I might read for more information?”

  “On the Akkiric Rings? Or on the dangers of crafting magic items beyond your ability?” Her gray eyes studied him.

  “On all that,” he said agreeably. “And on the Vempor Aegel Akkridor. What rings did he wear? And was he killed by a clansman who grew tired of the endless wars to the south? That would’ve affected trade even as far north as the Hell Sea.”

  “The Frozen Sea,” she corrected. “I would recommend Magius Artium Od
ditia by Beecusli, though it takes a more liberal view of the Akkiric Rings. I’m sure Gatha can help.”

  A silence grew between them.

  It was time for Ymir to leave. He did make a mental note of the book. He would be reading it once his Fourth Exam was finished.

  He went to stand.

  “Wait,” she said quietly. “Sit. You weren’t wrong when you barged into my privacy, uninvited. I am troubled.”

  “Why?” he asked. This was new. She was actually admitting to not being the all-powerful Princept of the most famous of the Theran magic academies.

  She swallowed. Her smile was sad. “I have a choice to make, Ymir, son of Ymok. The merfolk brought war to our doorstep, and we had no real say. This time? I could choose to bring war here. Should I?”

  “Why would you?” he asked, very intrigued.

  “To save lives. To save the soul of Thera itself.” She laughed at those grand words. “And you might be a part of that. You wouldn’t mind another little war, would you?”

  It was Ymir’s turn to laugh quietly. “Battle is easy. It anchors you to the moment. All else falls away. There is no fear or worry, just the second itself, the thrill of that second, when death and victory turn cards to decide your fate. That second of pure awareness is worth the bloodshed. Or it is for me. Battle is easy. Your Theran wars? Very complicated.” He stood and crossed his arms. “But you won’t tell me more, will you? I know how this game is played.”

  “I can’t yet,” she said. “I can’t. But if you could stop war on Thera, would you?”

  She was being deadly serious. Her eyes beseeched Ymir for some answers, any answers, and he was mystified. He’d seen this woman fight, and she was a hellion. And more, she was as clever as she was violent. To see her so distraught made him ponder the question. His first instinct? He couldn’t care less about these southerners and their wicked ways. That was his first thought, and it was from a man who expected to return to the Ax Tundra. He couldn’t be that man. He was forever exiled because of the Lonely Man’s sorcerous curse.