Barbarian Gladiator (Princesses of the Ironbound Book 4)

by Aaron Crash

  Gatha and Gharam struck two of the Betrayer’s guard—fire meeting ice in a ring of steel and spells. Pargar’s warriors engaged Gulnash’s other two warriors.

  That gave Ymir an opening to get to the Betrayer. The clansman sped forward with Charibda behind him. He didn’t want her fighting. Let everyone think they’d made a mistake with the choice.

  Ymir wasn’t going to encumber himself with ice armor, not yet, and he didn’t need his battle ax to be anything other than a sharp edge. He was going to cut off the Betrayer’s hand and retrieve the ring. When they screamed foul, he would laugh at them.

  It was madness to think that rules would be respected in such chaos. The Gruul were naïve. The Betrayer thought himself above their culture.

  Gulnash was doing well, however, floating on his Moons magic in his sand armor shell as he ducked and dodged every one of Della’s attacks in a dizzying display of speed and dexterity and magic. For Gulnash to summon forth sand armor as well as levitate? He’d be using a vast amount of his dusza. This conqueror was far more than some brute warrior. No wonder he’d gotten so far.

  Gulnash’s ring flashed, and he boomed out a spell, “Lutum devocho!” It was the most powerful of the Form magic. A golem of spinning sand came blasting up from around his feet and lifted itself up in a whirlwind of grit. It struck Della, who was thrown back from her quarry. She hit the ground, knocked off-balance, because there was no way Gulnash should be able to have so many spells working at once.

  The sand golem plucked one of her swords from her hands, and she was forced to fence with the thing.

  Ymir stalked forward, ax raised, aiming for the Betrayer’s exposed hand.

  Gulnash pivoted and, with a mighty swing, knocked Ymir’s ax from his hand.

  Ymir used the Winter Flame Ring to freeze the amwabs around the Betrayer, but Gulnash, impossibly, felt the spell. “Lutum inanis!” the orc hissed, spoiling the magic.

  The clansman drew his orc sword and a hatchet and sank a hand ax into the sand armor, but he purposefully didn’t pierce the Betrayer’s skin. No, for Gulnash to leave the match from a Blooding? It wasn’t why they were there.

  Ymir tried again to hack the hand off Gulnash, but the Betrayer cast a Moons spell, summoning magical wind that threw Ymir from him. He rolled across the sand. He was up in an instant, though, surveying the scene.

  Issa Leel called out more names and cards from those who would have to leave the contest. They were orcs from Ssunash and from Goyyoat but not from Rukklur yet.

  Shlak had shown his treachery early. He was foolish to think he could make any kind of deal with the Betrayer.

  Gatha used her Akkiric Ring to burn the sword out from the orc she was fighting. She knocked him aside, not even caring to cut him, but instead raced forward to kill the Betrayer.

  Ymir grinned. Gulnash was about to die because Charibda had run up ahead of the she-orc. She swung her net to capture his mace, but the Betrayer was too fast, even in his sand armor.

  He dodged both the net and a thrust of the mermaid’s trident.

  Gatha ran up, silently, her sword raised over her head.

  It seemed over.

  Until Gulnash thrust out his left hand and made a fist. His Focus ring turned black.

  Gatha let out a shriek and fell to her knees. Gulnash dodged Charibda’s next attack, sped forward in a blinding storm of sand, and kicked Gatha in the chest. She tried to crawl away, but he brought a big iron boot down on her ankle.

  She cried out.

  Pargar appeared from nowhere, mouth open, tusks dripping slobber, his red hair like blood on his head. He too was about to cut down Gulnash, but instead the Betrayer again used his ring. The crystal grew dark, and Pargar yelped and fell to his knees before keeling over. Gulnash seemed to grow taller, thicker, and more muscled. Even his Form magic was more fierce, keeping Della busy with his sand golem. More sand covered his gritty armor.

  Ymir cast Moons magic to rush forward with supernatural alacrity.

  The Betrayer blocked Ymir’s thrust and Charibda’s stab. He then whirled and sank his spiked mace into the head of Pargar of Rukklur. It was a killing blow, caving in the orc chieftain’s skull.

  Gulnash barked out a word Ymir didn’t catch, and his warriors began to hack at their opponents, as if this were a Maiming or a Slaying.

  Gharam let out a howl of pain. He’d lost his left arm at the elbow. He went down.

  “Foul! Vempor of mud! Foul! The royale is over!” Issa Leel screamed.

  The rules of ritual were no more. Ymir saw his chance, and he went forward to kill Gulnash and end this madness.

  Ymir again accessed the power in the Winter Flame Ring to freeze Gulnash in place, both his feet, and to put a muzzle on his mouth. Ice crystals formed on his tusks, and he was caught.

  Charibda went to jam her trident into the Betrayer’s throat.

  Gulnash pulled back.

  Ymir struck with both his sword and hatchet, one to kill, the other to maim.

  “Stop!” Professor Leel thundered. “Jelu Devocho!” And she used the ultimate Flow magic to create a river of ice that struck all the gladiators, freezing them in place in a wall of cold. Ymir couldn’t move. Nor could Gulnash. Issa had used her majestic powers to end the battle royale. It would leave her weakened, surely, and it might do permanent damage, but the match was ended.

  Gulnash leered into Ymir’s face “You like my ring, don’t you, barbarian?”

  Ymir smiled. “It looks good, Gulnash. It’ll look better on my hand. I’m wondering if you found Octovato as boring as I did. He sure did like a good eight.”

  “Or a bad one.” The Betrayer smiled. “For those rings on your hand are bad. You can think they aren’t, but we know the truth, don’t we? Do you have conquest in your heart, Ymir, elk fucker?”

  “Depends on how many elk I get to fuck.” Ymir smirked.

  Della shouted, “Ignis inanis!” and dispelled a good portion of Issa’s Flow magic.

  She marched up to the Betrayer. “You murdered on a Blooding round. You told your Gungarr to murder. You have broken the sanctity of the match. Or do you have another fucking blood coin?”

  Gulnash narrowed his eyes. “It was an accident. I am a Gruul warrior, and I was consumed with blood lust. You have my apologies. It is a sad thing, losing Pargar of Rukklur.” He then roared up at the arena. “There has been slaying and maiming in the Blooding match of the battle royale. Do we stop? Or do we continue? Let me hear Kaiyee for all those who wish to continue!”

  Most every orc screamed, “Kaiyee!”

  Issa Leel stepped forward. She was pale and sweating, and looked like she might faint at any minute. “And who would call Kaiyee to end this tournament here and now? Who would call for a trial?”

  The answer was far less. Few spectators in the arena wanted a lengthy trial. They wanted the blood of the Betrayer.

  Gulnash sneered, “It looks like we have our answer, Durgha K’Danzga.”

  Issa sighed at the Betrayer. There was little they could do.

  Gatha had her boot off, and she was clutching her ankle. It was bruised and swollen, but Gulnash had not broken the skin.

  However, the orc villain might have just killed her anyway. If she was in a Slaying match, she wouldn’t be able to move well, and it could mean her death. There were to be no healing spells for those still taking part in the Kurzig Durgha. It was part of the ritualistic nature of the tournament.

  And there was that ring on the Betrayer’s finger, taunting Ymir. Normally, he would’ve gone to the Librarium to research crystal rings, or asked Linnylynn Albatross. However, they still had a day of more blood ahead of them.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  YMIR SAT WITH GATHA on the bench, in the blazing sun, near the western seats of the arena. The clansman wrapped a bandage around the she-orc’s swollen ankle.

  Ten of the twenty-five warriors had been knocked out in the battle royale, including Gharam, who’d lost an arm, and Pargar, who’d lost his lif
e. The other warriors had all been slashed and gashed up as well. However, none of the Betrayer’s Gungarr had been knocked out. He was the only one to have a full complement left.

  Gatha’s tusks were out, and she was in a rage. “His fucking ring stole magic from my dusza. I felt its fingers in me, Ymir. It ripped my soul open, and I didn’t have any strength left. It was how he was able to defeat me.”

  “But not kill you,” Ymir said.

  “Perhaps it would’ve been better if he had.”

  Ymir grabbed her face and stared into her eyes.

  Another match was happening, a Maiming between one of Gulnash’s men fighting someone from Rukklur.

  Ymir, though, kept his eyes on the she-orc’s. “You are not dead yet. We have hope. And now we know why Gulnash came to us early. We simply have to survive this day. Then we’ll talk with Linnylynn about the nature of that ring. It might not be Akkiric.”

  But it was. Gulnash had called the Kurzig Durgha in the first place, and he’d insisted it be at Old Ironbound, and all along, his endgame was to craft an Akkiric Ring and use it in the tournament of death. To top it all off, Gulnash had been clear that he considered the rings evil, meant for a conqueror who would do anything to win power for himself.

  What did that mean for Ymir?

  Gatha licked her lips. “We both know that’s an Akkiric Ring. But you’re right. I’m not yet dead. My card has yet to be drawn. We can live in hope.” She retracted her tusks.

  Ymir felt the smile glow on his face. “Yes. We can live in hope because we live. For now.” Ymir wasn’t going to play by the Gruul rules. They had to find a way to kill Gulnash that night, but it wouldn’t be easy. There were enough of Gulnash’s troops to bring war on Old Ironbound. They would have to be clever and wait for an opportunity.

  Charibda came and crouched next to them. “This damn sun is drying out my skin. And it’s so fucking bright. And this fucking tournament is a fucking joke. Gulnash never had any intention of keeping that battle royale a Blooding. It was all a stupid mistake.”

  Gatha winced as Ymir tightened the bandage. “If we were to throw out our rituals and rules because of one man, then where would we be? We have to follow our traditions. This whole tournament might be a mistake, but it might save hundreds of thousands of lives. What if the Therans could’ve stopped the Vempor Aegel Akkridor before he started his conquests?”

  The mermaid grumbled, “Maybe.”

  “It’s my father that’s the problem,” the she-orc snapped. “We might have had Gulnash, but, no, Shlak wanted to thin the ranks of the Goyyoats. My father is just as bad as my mother.”

  They were strong words, especially since her mother might be a part of the Midnight Guild.

  “He’s playing a dangerous game,” Ymir agreed.

  The arena roared. Ymir glanced up to see one of Gulnash’s men chop the leg off a Rukklur warrior. Another gladiator was removed from the Kurzig Durgha.

  The orc warrior was dragged off the field and healed by Old Ironbound’s elven doctor, Nuveehl Naymer. Gharam also had been healed. He sat on the bench, pale and fingering the stump of his left arm. He shook his head, sighing. Poor Gharam. He was out of the tournament, but he still lived.

  Gulnash’s man strutted back to his bench, swinging his bloody sword and laughing at the jeers and taunts.

  Issa Leel stepped out, pale, brittle, and shaken from the powerful magic she’d had to use to stop the battle royale that morning. She’d divided the Fateblood Deck into six piles. Five of the piles matched the five Gungarr, and one pile was the rest of the deck. There was a complex process of choosing the two warriors from the five piles, so it wasn’t Issa Leel deciding at random. She had to follow the ritual, which included the month, day, and position of the moons as well as who had already fought.

  The elven professor drew two cards, a queen of fire and a ten of mud. Glagga the Blade would be fighting a Rukklur warrior. The crowd chanted the name of the cards over and over.

  Gulnash stood with his men at the east benches, arms crossed. The Ssunash contingent was to the north, while the Goyyoats and the Rukklurs were to the southeast and southwest.

  The audience held their breath as Issa drew the third card from the sixth pile. A five of fire. A Blooding.

  The two warriors walked out to the pedestal. When they were in place, Issa shouted the sacred litany. “Our lives are short, but the war is forever! Fight and die!”

  Both the gladiators echoed her. “Fight and die!”

  The Rukklur warrior unsheathed his sword and slashed his own arm, glaring at Glagga the Blade the entire time.

  He had glares for Shlak and Gulnash as well.

  The Rukklur warrior was showing that this wasn’t about honor and battle, but about ridding the world of an orc that had betrayed countless orcs. Shlak and his Gungarr had dishonored themselves and the Kurzig Durgha.

  Glagga didn’t raise her weapon in triumph. She stepped back to the northern benches, where Shlak pounded on her back as if she’d won. No, she’d been humiliated.

  Gatha growled, “Glagga deserves a better fate than to be fighting for my father. He made a deal with Gulnash, he must’ve, and he’s fool enough to think the Betrayer will follow through on the terms.”

  “Let’s keep our minds on this day and on this fight,” Ymir said. “Things will be different before the morning, I assure you.”

  Issa returned to the pedestal at the center of the sands. She swept the cards around, shuffling each pile, and then stacked them into the six categories again. She drew two cards. “Vempor of mud. King of wind.”

  Gharam coughed, then sighed. “That’s Gulnash and the chieftain Urag. This is interesting because there is no love lost between those two. I hope old Urag is quick enough to end this. Don’t much matter what kind of match it is.”

  Issa’s words were repeated over and over until the audience hushed as she went to draw the next card. “A two of wind. To the Slaying!”

  The entire arena gasped, then chanted the name of the card. Money exchanged hands because someone gambled on every card. Others wrote down the cards, and they would later try to unravel the symbols in hopes of foretelling their future.

  And some in the crowd, mostly Gulnash’s followers, howled for unadulterated bloodletting.

  Gulnash walked out with his sword and the death’s head mace that had already claimed the lives of so many. His black topknot waved as he walked.

  Urag went out with his sword and shield. They met at the pedestal.

  Everyone was breathless. This was the first of the Slayings.

  Issa Leel called out the litany, and the fight began.

  Gulnash called up his sand armor while bashing Urag’s shield off his arm. He moved with such quickness and power. Urag tried to burn the Betrayer with both his flame armor and a fireball attack. However, with a flash of Gulnash’s crystal ring, the Goyyoat’s chieftain lost his magic, his dusza drained.

  He appeared weakened, even as the Betrayer’s power increased. He couldn’t evade the Betrayer’s attack, and Gulnash struck a glancing blow on the chieftain’s face. Urag’s tusks were cracked, he was blinded, but he fought on. Gulnash toyed with him until the entire crowd was stunned into silence.

  Then, when Urag could fight no more, Gulnash sucked the man down into a pit of sand, up to his waist. Goyyoat’s chieftain struggled, but with a mighty swing of his mace, Gulnash batted off Urag’s head. Blood geysered onto the sand.

  Hisses, jeers, and boos followed. But Gulnash knew what he was doing. Ymir could see it—the rogue orc wanted them to hate him because they didn’t matter. He had his followers encamped on the Blood Steppes, and they were the only ones that mattered. The Theran elite had been powerless to stop him, and in the Betrayer’s mind, he couldn’t be defeated.

  “He’s taking power from his enemies,” Charibda said. “He siphoned from Urag’s dusza, to weaken him, and to grow stronger.”

  Ymir laughed grimly. “Like a poor Seven Devils player, he’s showing
us his hand.”

  The day wore on.

  Della fought a Blooding contest, easily taking out another Ssunash warrior, leaving Shlak with only two left, including Glagga the Blade. No one from Ssunash was going to throw the contest.

  Ymir felt a relieved thrill when he heard his name called. He was to go up against one of Gulnash’s men, Oygoth. A Maiming.

  Ymir walked out with the arena chanting his name. He had his battle ax, though he wasn’t sure whether he was going to use it or not. In a Maiming, he could deal out any number of wounds, but he had to chop something off. He left his Gruul sword behind.

  Charibda held it while giving Gatha an unsure look.

  Della, though, knew that Ymir had everything under control.

  Issa Leel finished off the sacred litany with, “Fight and die!”

  Ymir and Oygoth both echoed her, and the fight began.

  Oygoth had a spiked buckler, a short heavy sword, and a quiver of javelins on his back. He immediately cast Moons magic and went skating back, flinging javelins at Ymir, who found the projectiles annoying.

  Either they skittered off his ice armor, or he batted them out of the air with his battle ax.

  He then ran forward, the Winter Flame Ring heavy on his hand. There was water and blood in the sand, he felt it, and he drew it up into a wall behind Oygoth.

  The orc wasn’t using his javelins now. He let them fall. He drew his short sword and burst into flames, while at the same time hurling fire at Ymir.

  The clansman stopped that shit at once. “Jelu inanis!”

  The fireballs vanished into nothing.

  Ymir feinted to his left, put all of his weight there, and cast a Moons spell. “Caelum caelarum!”

  It was a derivation of the wizarding riposte. By the Axman, he’d learned something at the damn school. He jerked himself to his right at the last moment, using the magical speed to trick Oygoth.