Bloodlust

by Nicole Zoltack

  That's why we don't bother with love.

  The goliath was far ahead of her now, having continued on as she gazed upon the tree, circling around it at a wide berth. A small redbird flew toward the tree and landed on a high branch. The bright red of its feathers died away, transforming to the same black of the tree.

  A soft breeze stirred through the swamp, and the bird fell off the branch. It landed at its base with a thud, on top of several other black, unrecognizable objects.

  Ivy joined Lukor and waited until they left the swamp behind to inquire, "When did it start doing that?"

  The tree changing those who touched it, forcing them to share the human's fate, had never been in any of the versions she'd heard over the years.

  "Last season, or so I'm told. Tragic, isn't it?"

  "You care for love?"

  "No." His laugh was sudden and deep. "I care for myself. Like you."

  "We're nothing alike."

  The sun was descending in the sky, and the duo found a lake. The goliath turned his back so she could bathe, although she kept her gaze on him to ensure he gave her some privacy. The disgusting swamp necessitated a second washing. In half the time she normally took for cleansing while away from the fortress — which was a quarter of the time she enjoyed within the stone walls — she was dressed again. No matter how she tried, some of the swamp's blackness refused to relinquish its hold on the skirt, but at least most of the blood was gone.

  Lukor removed the tunics, revealing huge shoulders, like two massive balloons, his chest broader than most barbarians. He discarded the barbarian tunic with a snarl. Just why had he stolen it in the first place? She spied fresh bruises on his back and a new scar. The barbarian had put up a fight. Good. If she returned home after her quest to learn this Lukor had killed one of her people, she would seek out the goliath and kill him, regardless of his aid.

  With a gentleness that belied his strength, Lukor washed his clothes, but kept them, and his weapons, near him at all times, granting her no opportunity to even attempt to steal his tunic.

  The other times she had seen goliaths, they had always worn armor. Covered in it. All fashioned out of bronze. Considering Lukor had wished to pass as a barbarian, it was plain why he had worn none. Why hadn't the goliatha? Ivy had been too incensed at her presence on their land to realize the girl had been both unarmored and unarmed, as far as Ivy had seen.

  Once he finished, he stood in front of her, his tunic in his hands. Water trickled down the ridges of his muscles. "Want this?" He smirked.

  "I don't know what you're talking about. Let's go."

  His gaze fell to the shield she had propped against a tree.

  "Why do you desire it?" She walked over to it and made a show of holding it on her non-dominant arm.

  "Why aren't you preparing for war?"

  "Against the trolls?" she scoffed. "Why aren't you in Ordisium?"

  His gaze flicked to the shield again. "I'll be there soon enough."

  "And your people? Are they preparing for battle?"

  His eyes blinked twice before he put on his tunic. Between the damp material and his wet body, it clung to his muscles, far tighter and clingier than before. "We are always prepared."

  If only he hadn't bathed with his weapons, she could have forced him to reveal all he knew. Infuriating to a fault. He seemed to know, or at least suspect, what she planned to do before she even came up with the notion.

  "Spend much time in the Grotto Province?" she inquired.

  "I've dealt with humans from time to time." Lukor gestured for her to follow him.

  Instead, she matched his swift pace, not willing to let him out of her sight. The land of the humans Ivy had never seen, although from map gazing she knew several routes to journey there. Was his source a human? The location of the person suggested so, but humans kept mostly to themselves, having been in the midst of a bloody civil war for a good twenty years now, since shortly before Ivy's birth.

  Or perhaps a dwarf. Centuries ago, dwarves had carved their domain deep within the Rocks of Breakingham. Two hundred years ago, they moved for the Blood Stones, where they still lived to this day. 'Twas possible a few dwarves lingered in the now dormant caverns, if the dwarves hadn't collapsed them.

  Due to the scarcity of the elves, Ivy assumed the informant was not one of the pointy-eared race. She fingered her own pointed ear as the possibility that this venture was an elaborate ploy to remove her from her kingdom came to mind, and not for the first time. She'd noticed the flickering of malice that transformed into joy when she'd agreed to his deal.

  Her fingers dipped within her clothes to brush against the messages. This was the reason for her quest — to ensure her people's survival, as well as her father's. Lately, her urges to kill were becoming stronger. Perhaps her father had been right to punish her. She could scarcely determine friend from foe.

  Ironic, as she had no friends.

  This drive that propelled her forward, this emotion, was strange and unfamiliar. The want to lead her people had never compelled her before. Not until she saw those children. Compassion, kindness, love — all emotions she'd never experienced, never felt, never been bestowed upon. All she knew about them she had read in a few texts before her mother burned them.

  Her mother had been killed in battle two years ago. A true barbaroness. Ivy could never measure up to her. Still, she could try. Starting with the Spirit Realm.

  'Twas a dangerous place, but Ivy did not fear it. 'Twas seeing her mother once more she feared.

  The barbarian was contemplating something, he could tell.

  Lukor breathed in the rich scents of the tilled soil. Fresh crops would be growing shortly — whisper apear, green fingers, giddeus, hazel dust — but the scent that had his mouth watering was a large bear-dog.

  The animal used its paws to create a burrow and realized the danger too late when Lukor slashed its neck, its short legs quivering before it lay still. With smooth cuts with his axe, Lukor removed strips of meat.

  "Start a fire, and I'll give you some," he offered.

  Ivy leaned against a nearby tree, shaded from the sun's sparse rays. Evening would be upon them soon, but after their meal, they could continue on farther this night before retiring, not that Lukor planned on sleeping.

  "If I don't start it, you will." She made no move from her perch to help.

  True enough. He had tasted raw meat before and only ate it when nearby enemies made the use of fire too dangerous. Although he was in the presence of an enemy, he would ignite a fire once he had stripped all the meat from the carcass. Killing her now would ruin his plan. Not only did she have to die — so did the rest of her wretched race.

  From within his tunic, he removed a small pouch. Made of zard hide, it was completely impervious to the elements. Tumbling the contents into his yellow-green palm, he removed a fire stone and placed it on a bed of twigs. Instantly, the fire contained within the stone flared to life, and within minutes, he enjoyed a feast.

  Since the barbarian had made no move to help him, nor asked for any, once finished, Lukor tucked away the rest of the meat until only the bones and hide remained. Patting his hands to bat away dirt, he eyed the barbarian.

  Who was feasting on a meal of her own.

  He sniffed. Smelled like...

  "Pig?" Rage bloomed within him like a dark flower as he recalled her earlier insult. No one had ever called him such a slight before. As if swine shared any of the qualities — good or ill — the goliaths possessed.

  The merging of humans and dwarves had started their race. Tall, intelligent, some might call the goliaths ruthless and savage and would not be far off. Providing every goliath did all the clan asked, he or she was protected by the ruling golock or golempress. Goliaths were a proud race, full of both warriors and healers, although few possessed the latter ability. But if a goliath could not be healed or refused to help the race, they were exiled.

  Years ago, goliaths viewed anyone who helped them as a friend, regardl
ess of race. Time had changed that line of thinking. Thievery, rape, battles, war...

  Woe to those who betrayed them, whether they be goliath or human or dwarf or elf or troll... or barbarian.

  The barbarian-princess blinked once and held some out to him. When he scowled, she plopped another morsel into her mouth. Built like the legendary Amazons, nothing about her could be considered small. Her tongue licked her plump lips, flicking at the trace of blood on her chin.

  A wild, ferocious woman. He must never underestimate her, nor let his guard down. To do so would result in his death.

  She stretched out a long arm. "Are you sure you don't want any?"

  Although he longed to slam the meat out of her hand, he took it and swallowed the morsel without first chewing it. "There. Happy?"

  Her purple eyes widened for a moment before narrowing.

  Good. Let her realize she couldn't get to him. She was not in charge. In fact...

  "We should get going. You finished?"

  Her gaze flicked from the half-eaten carcass to the small dirt trail that led to the Spirit Realm. "In a moment."

  With a savagery that belied the glimpses of grace he saw within precious few of her movements — her walk and the tilt of her neck, and when she bathed, not that he watched her long — she devoured the pig and tossed the bones onto the remnants of his meal. Her long finger wiped a smudge of meat from her cheek into her mouth. Despite the brutal meal, none now lingered on her face.

  "Let us move on." He pressed forward, but not too fast. Lukor was no fool and would not allow her the chance to stab his backside.

  When the grass changed to a bluish color, having been gray since they'd left the swamp behind, they decided to camp for the night. Whether he liked it or not, his body needed some rest.

  From across a small fire she'd lit the olden way, he stared at her as she pushed a stick to the glowing embers. Her distrust of him, her disdain — was it merely for him or his whole race?

  Thus far, the goliaths had stayed out of the growing conflict brewing between the barbarians and trolls. Having a love for neither, most goliaths did not favor a particular side. But Lukor had a strong opinion on the matter, and he would make them all see his way. He would use the barbarian-princess to enact his revenge.

  Every single barbarian must die.

  The goliath slept. Although fatigue called to her, she persevered and outlasted him.

  With only the faintest stirrings of her traitorous skirt rustling in the stillness of the night, she slinked toward him, scarcely breathing. Her fingers hovered above the goliathic emblem. She gripped her blade and forced it to his neck, her body straddling his broad chest.

  His green eyes popped open, showing no signs of distrust. "Think I didn't smell you?"

  "I don't smell badly."

  He shrugged. "In your opinion. Guess you're used to it."

  She pressed harder with her dagger, so a scarlet ribbon of blood flowed. "Tell me his name."

  "Who?"

  His ignorance wasn't cute. Did he have a death wish? Aggravating a barbarian, especially one with a weapon pointed at you — nothing could be more foolhardy.

  "The person you're leading me to."

  "Who said the person's male?"

  "Male, female, goliath, human, whatever. Just tell me!"

  He yawned and stretched as much as he could with her on top of him, forcing the dagger deeper into the existing cut. "If I tell you, you'll kill me."

  Redness seeped into the outskirts of her vision. "I'll kill you right now."

  "No, you won't. Like it or not, you need me."

  "No, I don't. I could kill you, find and capture a troll, and torture him until he tells me what the message means."

  "It's possible not every troll will know. Besides, he'd probably kill himself before telling you. And if you attempt to capture a troll, you risk launching war between your races. Since you aren't within your stone tower, I'm left to assume you don't want war."

  Ivy leaned back, his body a solid wall of muscle beneath her. "What barbarian doesn't want war?"

  "One whose every action isn't overruled by Bloodlust."

  "What do you know of barbarians? Or me for that matter? You've known me for a second," she hissed.

  His monster hand grabbed her free hand and placed it on the black tree of the crest. "If you were to try to claim this tunic as your own, to masquerade yourself as a goliath ally, the first goliath who sees you will kill you on sight."

  With fluid grace, he easily sat up, forcing her onto his lap. Far too close for comfort. She struggled against him, but he pinned her arms to her side, his grip on her wrist too great and forcing the dagger to fall from her hand.

  "Who are you?" she breathed.

  He grinned, his lips curling around his tusks. "Only allies know that."

  She wracked her mind to conjure up names of goliath nobles, but even the name of their golock escaped her. Or golempress, if a goliatha ruled. Politics within other races she had learned, but as rulers changed so quickly, some only lasting a day or even mere hours, it was impossible to keep track.

  Pressing her thighs inward into a deathtrap squeeze, she forced him onto his back. "And you want my shield to send to my father and force him to rage war against both the trolls and the goliaths."

  His silence was telling.

  Ivy's throat closed slightly. Both races were strong and powerful. Not nearly as dominant as the barbarians, but they greatly outnumbered her people. Without question, a dual war would result in a bloodbath. The most likely solution — the annihilation of the barbarian race.

  She should return home with this knowledge, but her father would never see reason. He'd rush into battle against trolls and goliaths alike, and the destruction of her race would be all but assured.

  No, she had to fix this on her own. That Lukor was here meant not all goliaths shared his views. Perhaps she could convince him to think otherwise.

  His black hair, cropped short in a distinct human style, felt soft beneath her fingers. He stiffened beneath her and grabbed her hands.

  "Don't touch me," he growled.

  Never one to follow orders, Ivy bent forward and pressed her lips to his furrowed brow.

  Nothing stirred within her. Nothing.

  A lie. Her heart had burned upon contact.

  She jolted back from him, scrambling to her feet.

  Lukor eyed her strangely as he stood and retrieved her dagger. After turning it in his hands, he held it out for her.

  She grasped it, touching his skin briefly. Her fingertips tingled from his warmth. True, he was a goliath, and an enemy, but he built like a giant barbarian, and she would be lying if she said he was ugly.

  "I care not for you." The copper specks in his eyes disappeared as his green eyes turned almost black. "Do not try to change my mind about your race. Come, let's continue on."

  Ivy longed to protest, to walk away from their deal. Her shield meant war. But she needed to both change his mind and learn the contents of the messages. She was trapped.

  A challenge. She never turned back from one.

  So what if she knew nothing about the art of seduction? It could not be too hard to change his mind. Her mother used to say that if a problem with a male couldn't be resolved with a blade, try a kiss.

  A kiss on the lips would have had more effect, most likely, but she couldn't bring herself to do that. Her lips had never touched another's before, not even her mother's cheek. But for her first kiss to be with a goliath...

  If that's what it took, she would manage. Somehow.

  Barbarian-Princess Ivy marched beside Lukor. His movements were jerky, sharp, his back more rigid than a book's spine. Agitation seeped out of his pores and entered her until she felt as tension-filled as he seemed. It didn't help her eyes threatened to close, her lids feeling heavier than boulders. Her body needed rest, and soon, she was stumbling beside him in the darkness.

  Lukor's steps slowed to a halt. "Shall we try to rest again?"
>
  The moon was scarcely a sliver in the sky, the night seemingly endless. All Ivy wanted to do was rest, something she hadn't longed for in years. Not even the nightmares she knew waited for her deterred her.

  "One of us should keep watch." Her mind struggled against her body's needs.

  "You trust me?"

  "You me?"

  "You just threatened me."

  Ivy's lips curled into a smirk that she forced into a smile. It had to look forced, but she was trying. "You should trust me less if I didn't threaten you."

  He grunted.

  In the darkness, she didn't see a rock until she stumbled over it. He didn't even reach out his arm to catch her, even though he could have easily saved her wrists from the jarring impact of keeping her face from tasting grass and dirt.

  "Guess I'll take first watch. You can't even walk."

  Her back straightened, her entire body prickling, on edge, wary. "Perhaps we could both sleep. Few come this way. We should be safe."

  Lukor took one step to be an inch in front of her. He raised a dark eyebrow. "You think that wise?"

  No wiser than... She lifted onto her toes, puckering her lips.

  Hands on her shoulders forced her back. "I told you not to try that again. You will not survive a thrice attempt." He did not hide his hand moving to the hilt of his axe.

  Torn between embarrassment, shame, and wounded pride, she turned her back to him. Strange, alien emotions were coursing through her body, and she did not like any of them. Where was anger? Rage? Her friends and allies.

  Better to feel nothing. She closed her eyes and pushed all emotions away. "You hate all barbarians. Tell me, how many of my race do you actually know? Have conversed with?"

  The unmistakable sound of a weapon withdrawing urged her heartbeat to race. She stood impossibly still, not arming herself, not facing her opponent.

  An uncomfortable silence surrounded them like a dreary fog. Ivy closed her eyes. Would her next breath be her last? Or would the goliath spare her and grant her the chance to save her people? Killing him would not help her people. She needed him, as much as it pained her to rely on another, whether he be goliath or barbarian.