Barbarian Gladiator (Princesses of the Ironbound Book 4)

by Aaron Crash

  It was clear Gatha expected the Betrayer to stop. So did Valarenza, who sneered at the orc. “You can’t touch me here, Gulnash. Put your fucking mace away.” He still didn’t draw his sword. He was confident that this orc would follow the sacred rules.

  “Ignis armatus!” Gulnash’s mace erupted in flames. Then, “Caelum caelarum!” The Betrayer sped forward with preternatural speed and sank his burning death’s head mace into Valarenza’s skull. The spikes tore through the mercenary’s skull even as the blow shattered his head.

  Scholars screamed and fled.

  Gatha roared spells. “Ignis armatus! Ignis prolium!” She became a living weapon of flame, armored in fire, wielding two blades of twin infernos. With the Yellow Scorch Ring, she was going to bring a fiery Armageddon onto the heads of the enemy orcs. “You are dead, Gulnash the Betrayer. You have broken the rules of the Kurzig Durgha, and your life is forfeit.”

  Two of his Gungarr shrieked in pain as their armor glowed red-hot.

  Ymir thought this was an excellent idea. He reached into a pouch and slid on the Winter Flame Ring. The two other members of Gulnash’s Gungarr found their boots frozen to the floor, and when they went to dispel his magic, he sealed their mouths shut. Along with their nostrils. With their airways frozen, they started to claw at their faces.

  “Caelum caelarum!” Gatha dashed forward, the wind of her speed turning her fire into a long tail of flame.

  Gulnash the Betrayer pulled a single rusted coin from his belt. It was a platinum sheck, covered in what could only be dried blood. He held it up. Gatha came to an abrupt stop.

  “This is the currency of my vengeance, a token from the three chieftains, holy with their blood. Stay your strike, Gatha of Ssunash. The blood coin was given to me before my betrayal of the weak-minded fools who think to lead us. The coin allows me to kill someone of my choice outside the bounds of our laws. This is not a betrayal of the Kurzig Durgha. This is me cashing in my blood coin.”

  “Ignis devocho!” Della Pennez’s voice echoed through the feasting hall. She’d cast a powerful dispel magic spell that wiped out all magic in the feasting hall.

  The two orcs with the burning armor finally unlatched the plates and they clanged to the ground, though their armor was already cooling. The other two Gruul warriors were trying to pry the ice away from their mouths and noses even as it turned to mist.

  Della marched forward, her face twisted with rage. “How dare you, dog, come into my school and murder one of my Gungarr? I should kill you where you stand.”

  “No.” Ymir stepped forward. “You can’t, Honored Princept. I could. I am beyond the rules of you southerners, be you orc, human, or elf. I should end this tournament now, with my sword drinking the blood of this Betrayer.” Ymir knew there would be no fight, but he wanted to goad this fucker a bit.

  Gulnash came forward. “The barbarian with magic. Ymir, son of Ymok, of the Black Wolf Clan.”

  Ymir could smell the bestial stink of the thing, its fetid breath. Its black eyes were as cold as frozen blood, the pupils barely discernible. Ymir was taller than most of the scholars at the school, but the Betrayer towered over him.

  “Gulnash of Goyyoat.” Ymir smiled into the nightmare face of the orc with his steel-spike tusk. “But no longer of Goyyoat. You murdered the chieftain and would’ve sacked the city. But the chieftain’s ptaris had other ideas.”

  The Betrayer grinned, and spit dripped from his tusks to puddle on the floor. “And you, Ymir, are no longer of the Black Wolf Clan. They exiled you for being cursed with magic. Or did they expel you for being a weakling runt not fit to hunt elk?”

  It was a foul thing to say. Gulnash wanted him to strike. Ymir was sorely tempted. But he still had two more rings to craft as well as the Gather Breath to finish.

  Della shoved Gulnash back with the force of a powerful Form spell, manipulating the amwabs in the air.

  Valarenza had slipped to the floor and Gulnash stumbled back to stand in his blood.

  Gatha stepped in to protect Ymir’s back, eyeing the four other orc warriors who stood there, all hulking, all black haired, and all male.

  “Let’s see the blood coin,” Della demanded.

  Gulnash dropped the platinum sheck into her hand. She turned it over, reading the inscription. “You’ve been carrying this coin for a while.”

  “I’ve never needed to use it,” the Betrayer growled. “I shit on the weak rituals of the water-blooded Gruul of this age. There was a time when all of Thera would tremble when our hordes went riding.”

  “Thousands upon thousands of years ago, even before the Age of Union,” the Princept said with some distaste. “And even then, many think those are mere legends. You slew one of my Gungarr.”

  “He killed three of my wives.” The Betrayer’s voice was deep, rough, ragged. “I had the cause. I had the coin. Unfortunately, I don’t have another token, or I would’ve also killed your barbarian boy. It’s known that he is my only real competition.”

  Della’s smile was as cold as the blade in Ymir’s hand. “I would like to watch you try. I’ve seen him fight. You had best beware.”

  Gulnash laughed. He walked across the floor to the keg of weak beer and picked up the entire thing. He set the keg on his shoulder and walked back.

  Tori and the other kitchen staff were huddled in the back, looking on with fearful eyes.

  “Show us to our rooms, Princept,” the Betrayer demanded. “We’ll drink your beer. We won’t kill again. But if you try to kill us in the meantime, I will make sure these halls run with the blood of your bitch orc, your barbarian, and the rest of these spineless scholars.”

  Gharam and Brodor had arrived, the orc with his sword and the dwarf with his hammer. Both stood, mouths agape.

  Ymir watched both men grow angry. Good—he needed an angry man’s breath. He’d already had his sights on Brodor.

  Della was forced to take Gulnash and his Gungarr to their rooms on the second floor of the Imperial Palace.

  Ymir slipped the Winter Flame Ring back into his pouch.

  Tori came forward with a mop and a bucket, looking uneasily at the body of the mercenary. Gharam and Brodor were already lifting Valarenza’s corpse. They’d take it to the Form tower and cast magic to preserve the body until funeral arrangements could be made.

  Tori was pale and shaking, and she swallowed hard. The mop trembled in her hand. “Gosh, Ymir. I never saw such a thing. That orc just killed that man sitting there. And the way you and Gatha were? I figured the killing was just starting.”

  Gatha came over and took the mop, her face blank.

  Tori hugged the she-orc. “I was so scared for you, Green Stuff. I mean it. For real.”

  The she-orc hugged the dwab close. “No worries, my girl. He can’t kill again until the Kurzig Durgha. Then those black-hair orcs will die.”

  “But first, I need the Veil Tear Ring,” Ymir said. “I want to know why Gulnash is here.”

  Tori started to cry a little, but she kept her sobs under control enough to slip him the ring. “You’ll need some treats for Fluffy, you will. And I’m betting you won’t have much time, not with our puppy breathing down your neck. I’m not sure I can handle this death tournament thing. I’m worried. I’m worried those orcs are too powerful.”

  That made Gatha laugh, showing her tusks. “No, sweet Toriah. No. We will win the Kurzig Durgha. We will destroy the Betrayer and all who stand with him. Am I correct, Ymir?”

  Ymir smiled at her. “You are correct, Gatha. After all, you’re the princess of the pits. And I’m going to have at least three Akkiric Rings when I face him. After I stand in his blood, I will leave footprints behind on the pit sands as I walk away with our victory.”

  Gatha caught his eyes. “We’ve lost one of our Gungarr.”

  “I know someone who wants to join us,” Ymir replied. He couldn’t help but grin at the irony. Valarenza’s death was tragic, but the man should’ve known better than to trust in the honor of the Betrayer.

/>   Gatha sighed. “We’ll see if the mermaid can fight as well as she claims. That Charibda wearies me, Ymir. She wearies me a great deal.”

  Ymir suppressed his laughter. He remembered how quickly Ribby had attacked, the power of her tentacles, the prowess she had shown. And if Gulnash and his orcs had never faced a mermaid princess before? They were in for a surprise that just might kill them.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  THAT NIGHT, YMIR SNUCK out of the Zoo under the cover of darkness. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a foggy night. The moonlight gleamed down from a sky heavy with night and stars. He knew the campus now, knew it well, including the movements of the security guards. It was past two a.m., and Agneeyeshka would be at the Flow courtyard smoking kharo.

  Ymir went through a side door in the Throne Auditorium, one that wasn’t kept locked half the time, including tonight. He hid in the shadows, wearing black robes and no shoes. Though it was summer, the air was chill, the rocks even colder. He had three rings with him: the Black Ice Ring, the Winter Flame Ring, and the Veil Tear, along with some treats for Fluffy, alchemical powders in three vials mixed by Tori herself.

  The clansman sped into the Librarium Citadel, avoiding the watchful gaze of another guard, one who stood on the third floor of the Coruscation Shelves.

  Ymir jogged over the bridge spanning the moat and reached the Imperial Palace. He didn’t need to go inside—he just needed to get close to Gulnash’s room. Ymir wanted as much time as possible to delve into the reason why Gulnash had come early. Most likely, the Betrayer had heard that Sturm Valarenza was at Old Ironbound and his desire for vengeance had overwhelmed him. It seemed feasible but weeks early? Something about the situation didn’t feel right.

  Ymir had climbed the palace before, on the night they’d forged the Black Ice Ring. This time, he had the extra help of the Winter Flame, so he could create ledges of ice when he needed them. He climbed to the top, where the roof sloped down to gutters and drain spouts, some shaped into the mouths of gargoyles.

  Ymir stalked across the gutter to the far edge. Two floors down would be where Gulnash and his orcs would be sleeping. Ymir crouched. From his pocket, he pulled three vials, which he tossed into the gutter. The compounds sparked from the alchemical reactions, the light and noise muffled by the gutter. He needed them to keep Fluffy busy for a few minutes.

  Ymir then wedged his feet against the gutter, leaned back on the roofing tiles, and slipped on the Veil Tear Ring. He heard the growl of the beast right away, a huge wolfish thing with too many legs and tentacles, some long, some dangling uselessly against mottled flesh. Eyes glowed in the night, coming for him, until Fluffy noticed the sparking treat. Then it was drawn to the sparks as it fed on Tori’s treat.

  As for Ymir, he felt his dusza pull free from his body. He fell out of time and space for a moment. The palace was gone, he was above the cape, which was just rock and grass, and cliffs that descended to the ocean.

  However, there was a rock arch with runes inscribed across the top, the script odd. Ymir didn’t recognize it, but it wasn’t ancient Theranus, nor any of the archaic languages of the known races. What had this place been?

  Ymir went through the arch, down through steps that would eventually be connected to the Scrollery, and down into the catacombs, where there were tombs, corridors, and steps leading ever downward. He would’ve liked to descend more, to maybe see the Stair. Could this be at the mouth of a portal that led to any number of worlds? Or had the catacombs been for a vanished race of people lost to history? Ymir didn’t know.

  But he didn’t have time to explore farther. It was a loss because the Veil Tear Ring didn’t always let you see what you wanted to see.

  Ymir took control. He forced himself through time, rising higher, until he was back to the present day and hovering over the Imperial Palace. Fluffy growled as it chewed on Tori’s dwindling treat.

  Ymir hurried and vanished through the sloped roof, moving through an empty third-floor room until he got to the second floor.

  There, sleeping on beds, lay the orcs, snoring. Ymir couldn’t exactly smell with this other form, but he could sense that the room didn’t smell like sweet summer fields.

  Armor and weapons lay stacked around the room as well as traveling gear and the empty keg. The five Gruul had easily drunk all the beer. Four of the orcs slept in the common room. Gulnash slept in the bedroom. Ymir floated there, reached out, and touched the minutes and miles of the Betrayer.

  Hadn’t the Akkir Akkor described those living in those terms—minutes and miles? The Akkir Akkor, those strange beings, didn’t have minutes and miles. They lived outside time and space.

  Ymir was taken to Goyyoat, Lake City, the city of the black hair, and Gulnash was a boy growing up in a rich family, his father one of the generals of the Goyyoat army. As the only boy, Gulnash was protected. He wasn’t supposed to fight, because his family already had power and wealth. Females would choose to join his ptoor because of his status. Gulnash had grown up pampered. At first, he didn’t like to fight.

  Ymir laughed. Then he saw Gulnash rising higher in society, and he did learn to enjoy fighting, but he liked the kill more than anything. He thought his father a fool. He studied the Vempor Aegel Akkridor. He acquired forbidden texts through bullying and murder. Several of Goyyoat’s librarians lost their lives to Gulnash’s lust for power. He had the best tutors, and so he learned magic quickly, killing tutors who warned him away from dark magic. One, however, told him about several coins that were kept hidden in an archive. They were powerful Gruul tokens, and so Gulnash took an interest in both coins and magic items.

  That was why he’d gotten the blood coin—he’d gone to the three orc cities to get the blood of the chieftains because he knew one day he’d want to murder someone, and either he wouldn’t have the power to hide the crime or he wouldn’t have the money to afford it.

  From an early age, Gulnash felt he was beyond the beliefs, rules, and rituals of his people. He felt he was destined to conquer the world and live a thousand years like the Akkridorian emperor. He had enough money to gather an army, and he kept that army in fear of him. He became a vicious warrior and a powerful mage.

  Ymir felt Fluffy above him. The hellhound was nearly done with his alchemical snack.

  The clansman rushed through the bloodshed and violence of Goyyoat. Afterwards, he saw Gulnash’s rampages, the murder, the rape, and the enslavement of children to work his fields to feed his army. The Betrayer drew the violent, greedy, and stupid to him. There seemed to be no limit.

  Then it was Gulnash who sent a sand letter to the chieftain of Ssunash, Shlak, Gatha’s father. The Kurzig Durgha was Gulnash’s idea, though he knew no one would trust him to organize such an event. It had to come from a chieftain, but Shlak took money to keep quiet. That was a whole different breadcrumb trail for Ymir to follow.

  It was clear, though, that Shlak, the chieftain of Ssunash, Grass City, the city of the white hair, couldn’t be trusted.

  Gulnash then set off for Old Ironbound, with hundreds of troops, though only five would walk through the Sun Gate to kill Valarenza. Gulnash had heard the mercenary had joined the Gungarr, but then he knew all the combatants in the tournament of death.

  Ymir had run out of time. Fluffy was coming for him, sniffing and mewling and moving down through the Imperial Palace, stinking and snarling.

  It wasn’t just Valarenza. Gulnash had come for another reason. Ymir tried to go deeper, but then a coin on the table flashed, and the snoring orc grunted. That coin had been crafted for a definite reason, and it reminded Ymir of the Obanathy cantrips. Gulnash couldn’t come in fully enshrouded in mystical protection, but he had set up a guard against anyone prying into his business.

  Fluffy came growling into the room, mouth bright with fire that no mortal could see. Ymir could feel the heat and see those fangs that wouldn’t touch his body but would tear his soul into pieces.

  Ymir took the ring off. He was back on the top of the palace roof. Tor
i’s treat was gone, leaving behind nothing but faint smoke and a smudge in the gutter.

  The clansman made his way back to the Zoo.

  Ribrib’s snoring permeated the place, climbing every ladder and racing up every staircase.

  A single candle burned on the kitchen table. Gatha sat there in her long nightshirt. She clutched a cup of milk.

  “You heard the door close when I left.” Ymir sat.

  Gatha nodded. “I did. You went to Gulnash. You used the Veil Tear Ring. And what did you find?”

  “He has magical coins that protect him from being scried,” Ymir said. “I don’t know why he came early. I did find out that the Kurzig Durgha was his idea, not your father’s. The Betrayer paid your father a king’s ransom to keep it quiet. I believe that’s the idiom. A king’s ransom.”

  Gatha’s tusks snapped from her lips. “That fucker. He would have dealings with the Betrayer. He has no honor, but then, he married that cunt who birthed me. While my father has a price, my mother cannot be bought. She has committed to her evil fully. She...she destroyed my heart.” Tears tracked down Gatha’s face.

  Ymir took out the Veil Tear Ring. He regarded it with a wry smile on his face. “Tori used this to see into your past. Using it now would be too dangerous. Perhaps you should tell me how your mother destroyed your heart.”

  Gatha growled at him. “It’s in the past. It means nothing.”

  “Shlak will come here. I think your mother will be coming as well. If you cling to your wound, you’ll die. You must heal this thing in you.”

  “You have your own wound to heal,” the she-orc spat. “Ever since the tombs, you have been carrying a weight in your heart. You first then, Ymir. You tell me of the night bear hunt. It’s why the Lonely Man chose to curse you.”

  Ymir stood up. Damn the ax! Hiding anything from his women was impossible. Gatha had felt him struggling with the evil memories of the night bear hunt, the reason why the Lonely Man had chosen to curse him.