Bloodlust

by Nicole Zoltack

  But that had not been the only reason why she had waken him. For one, the slap had been quite satisfying, only she had felt strangely guilty over it. Not that he hadn't deserved it for leaving her to the souls within the Realm. For another, she knew what it was like to be tormented by nightmares. A foreign emotion swept over her. Empathy? What a horrid feeling.

  Grayness all around her, the pain returned. She woke with a gasp and promptly fell back asleep. This time, she remembered none of the dream, but her stomach pained her. Lukor still slept as she armed herself, intent on finding herself a large meal. Before she could determine which direction to take, a falcor soared through the sky. The female bird landed on her outstretched hand.

  "Have you a message for me?" she whispered as she plucked at the bird's long, blue-green feathers. Unlike the ruthless trolls, barbarians did not force their messages inside a bird's stomach, ensuring its death upon reaching its intended person. Barbarians, instead, bent the firm feathers this way and that to deliver their message.

  From Angar. Wanting to know where she was, if she was all right.

  As if he cares.

  Anger seized her, and she snapped the bird's neck. It was the only way for Angar to not learn she had received the message. She hated the guard, the backstabber. If he had the chance, he would do anything to keep her from the throne.

  Seeing no need to waste the dead bird, Ivy ripped it open and proceeded to eat it raw.

  "That's barbaric."

  She glared at Lukor. When had he woken? Not caring for his tone, she threw an already picked clean bone at him.

  He plucked it out of the air and ate it. His eyes glittered. "I can handle anything you throw my way."

  Her lips curled into a half-smirk, half-smile. "Is that a challenge?"

  Lukor grinned. "A promise."

  "All the races fear barbarians." She eyed him, almost annoyed, almost pleased. Everything about his stature — relaxed and confident — as he stood leaning against the tree suggested he did not fear her.

  Within minutes, he disarmed himself and stalked toward her. His thumb brushed against her lips before disappearing within his mouth. He'd cleaned blood from her. Her body warmed at the contact, and she wished he would touch her again.

  What was she thinking? Perhaps she should not have denied herself male company for so long and chosen a husband before this, as both of her parents had berated her about for years. She knew nothing about love or romance, but clearly her body was merely craving attention of a different sort. Not Lukor specifically. Surely any male would make her feel the same.

  She shoved the rest of the bird into his hand. "Eat up. We must keep on. Another sun fall until we reach the Rocks of Breakingham."

  "Perhaps sooner, if we make good timing." Yet, he ate slowly, savoring, indulging, taking his time.

  To spite her, she felt certain, and so she snapped, "I guess those mares heightened your appetite."

  "I guess now it is my turn to thank you." He tossed feathers onto the ground; all that remained of the falcor. Majestic, larger than most birds with huge eyes, falcors were the only birds that seemed not to fear barbarians. Many animals fled from them, as if knowing instinctively how bloodthirsty they were.

  "Thank me?" Ivy receded as Lukor advanced toward her. She stopped only when her back slammed against another tree.

  His body pressed against hers, his lips inches from hers. Ivy closed her eyes and waited. And waited. And waited.

  Her eyes flew open to see him walking toward his weapons.

  She rushed over to him and shoved his knife into his hand, nicking his palm with the blade. He didn't flinch, but in that moment, her fingers brushed against his pulse. Far faster than normal. He was affected by her, but who knew if it was the same as she? And she did not truly want him. Of course not.

  Her skirt swirling around her legs, she marched on without looking back. They did not stop for a midday meal or for any other reason. Only once the Rocks came into view, shortly before the violet sun disappeared for the night, did Ivy's pace slow.

  A massive orange mountain range carved out of stone stretched before them. Snow capped the top of some of the pinnacles. Clouds hid others from view. Wind erosion had scarcely etched the facade. None of the caves the dwarves had dug were visible.

  Ivy stared at Lukor. "Well?"

  His green eyes pierced her, and she looked away. "We should wait for the morning's light."

  "But we finally reached our destination. Who are we meeting? Don't you want my shield?" She thrust it toward him.

  He accepted it warily. "In this poor lighting, we run the risk of entering the wrong cave and becoming lost in the caverns. Do you want to chance it?"

  Her fingers curled around the hilt of her sword. "Why do I get the feeling you are stalling? For all I know, you are setting up an ambush and plan to kill me the first chance you get. Word of my death would ensure war between our races." And pave the way for a new race to rise up in our stead. Ivy shuddered. The elf had been so certain of the barbarians' downfall...

  "You have that much trust in me?"

  Her lips twisted into a smile. Say something charming. "I trust you want me and my race dead that much."

  The probability of successfully seducing him had been highly unlikely. It was too hard for her to still her tongue and not speak her mind. As the barbarian-princess, she never had to mind her words. Why bother to start now? Although touching him had not been entirely unpleasant... when she breathed through her mouth.

  To her surprise, he laughed. This time, unlike several others, his gaze was not on her though, and his eyes hardened. He was not jesting.

  Another shudder traveled throughout her body. She must try harder to change his mind about her race. Ivy stepped forward and thrust the shield into his hand.

  His fingers traced the outer rim before stroking the protruding spike. "Why did you give this to me?"

  He might still try to seduce her, but she would not degrade herself in that matter any longer. "I do trust you," she admitted. "You promised to take me to someone who can decipher the messages in exchange for my shield. Now you have the shield in your possession, you must deliver me to that person."

  "How do you know I won't just bolt now that your shield is mine?"

  Her fingers tapped the silverbow on her back.

  His eyes lit up, matching his smile, and he held up the shield.

  "It's not large enough to protect your head, back, and legs," she said pointedly.

  "True." His gaze darted to the west, toward far off Ordisium, although his goliathic homeland was impossible to see. Then he nodded toward the nearest rock and geared up to climb. "My mother died when I was two."

  Why was he sharing this with her? The cold rock beneath her fingers chilled her, reminding her of the Realm, and she wished she had her bear-dog hide coat. Her bare shoulders did not appreciate the dropping temperature. A strong gale knocked some rocks from higher up the stony facade. They tumbled toward the goliath above her. He brushed them aside, and only a pebble made it past him to her.

  "Did you see her in the Realm?" she asked after a moment.

  "I did not."

  "Oh." Now she felt even more baffled.

  "I believe she passed on." His voice was low, as if talking to himself.

  She felt moved to comfort him, as bizarre as that seemed. "I do believe there is another place besides the Realm. I also think no barbarian has a chance of reaching that other location."

  Barbarians craved life. Although her mother had died in battle, and barbarians would willingly die in the heat of a melee, the drive and will to fight another day would never die within a barbarian, even if they no longer breathed. They were surely too restless to move on.

  The goliath easily scaled the rock side, seemingly too intent on guiding her to respond. His prize — the shield — bounced on his back. When she was about to ask him if he saw another relative, he paused and looked down at her. "You saw yours."

  It wasn't a questi
on but a statement. She stopped beside him, hands on her knees more to avoid eye contact than from fatigue. By now, the sun slept, and clouds blanketed the moon. To her, none of the rocks looked remarkable. "Have we far to go yet?"

  "You called out to her."

  During a nightmare perhaps. What all had she said while she slept? "Yes, I saw her."

  "Happy to see you?"

  "Not happy I'm unwed. Can we continue on? Please?"

  Lukor had the audacity to sit down. "She's more worried about you producing an heir than—"

  "Than what, goliath?" she snarled. "What more can I do to save my people? The trolls want us dead. I'm trying to discover their plans." She yanked the messages out and tossed the trio onto his lap. "For all I know, they're reaching out to other races to aid them. I am doing all I can think of to help them prepare, so we know what we are up against. I know you wish the goliaths to join in, but since you are here with me and not your people, I can only assume that not all the goliaths agree with you." Ivy paused for breath, her chest heaving.

  "If a dwarf killed a member of your family, would you want only that dwarf to die, or all of them?"

  "Only that one!"

  He raised his eyebrows.

  Her cheeks burned, and she turned her back to him. "Aye, all of them." Ivy knelt in front of him, not facing him, and reached her hand back to pat his knee. "I am sorry for your loss." Idly, she thought of the goliatha she'd found and wondered if the girl still breathed. "Truly I am."

  Lukor wished her hand would burn. How dare she try to comfort him. Her race was an abomination. He would kill her himself.

  Why was he still here? Now that he had the shield, he should be making off to Ordisium. But fighting her himself could quite possibly result in his death. As much as he hated to admit it, she was as fine a warrior as him, if not more so. If he fled, she might still be able to kill him. He could not risk leaving now. Once she, and he for that matter, learned what the message contained, she'd willingly let him go.

  Or kill me where I stand.

  Perhaps he should kill her right now. Her back was to him, her head lowered. His hand reached for a hidden short sword within his boot. And hesitated. She truly was genuine about wanting to save her race. She was capable of caring. A barbarian. He had never thought that possible.

  A jagged, start-shaped scar on the back of her left shoulder caught his eye when the wind blew her hair out of the way. She was strong, tough. If a barbarian could figure out a means to cheat death, she alone was that one.

  She squeezed his knee and stood, facing him. "You would condemn an entire race for the ill of one?" Ivy closed her eyes, and a flicker of pain crossed her shadowed features.

  "You know well the evils barbarians can wreak upon the earth."

  She swallowed hard, and her eyes flew open. "Aye."

  "Whole villages destroyed because of Bloodlust. Tell me, barbarians claim they cannot control themselves — when it overtakes them or during it. Is that true?"

  Ivy nodded curtly. "I guess I do not blame you for that. For hating us. For hating me."

  "I do hate you." A muscle twitched in his neck. A flicker of emotion flashed in her eyes, and he looked away, feeling so conflicted and uncertain himself. "But I also respect you."

  He hadn't realized he truly did until he said so and could not determine when exactly he had started to. How curious, but nothing would prevent him from striking her down with all the other barbarians. He had sworn he'd kill every last barbarian for what had been done to his sister. He could never lose sight of his goal. No matter how close he became with Ivy.

  She sat a foot away from him, her skirt riding up to bare some of her long, muscular legs. "We can wait until morning, since you're obviously in no hurry to find this person."

  Although shadows drenched her face, he could still see the darkness beneath her eyes. When had she last slept well? When had he?

  "If you want to press on, we can," he offered despite longing for rest. "But some of the caves are unstable now. There have been rockslides and some paths the dwarves rigged. I fear for our lives should I mistakenly bring us down the wrong path."

  "Your life," she retorted, nostrils flaring slightly.

  "Get over yourself." He snorted through his nose. "I am still here. I made you a promise. You have kept your end of the bargain, and so shall I. You will learn of the trolls' plans."

  Soon, the barbarian-princess fell asleep sitting upright, her head hanging down low, dark blond hair draping her. His leg muscles twitched with suppression, wanting to jump up and flee, but he stayed, biding his time for he also wanted to know what the trolls' message contained. Perhaps he would kill her afterward, and send her head, and not her shield, to her father. Why did that thought not please him as much as before?

  By now, she had slumped awkwardly over to the side. Before he could blink, he stood and eased her flat onto her back. The frightened expression on her face eased for a second, dissipating into relief. The instance he stopped touching her, her features twisted again. Curious, Lukor touched her shoulder, and once more, she relaxed. He lay down beside her, her back facing him as she slept with his hand on her shoulder. War and battles and death surrounded them, the blight of their world. For one night, if he could give her peace, he would.

  That night, Lukor, too, slept better than he had in years.

  Mercifully, he woke first and stretched. Ivy immediately sat up and looked around. When she turned and saw him, her purple eyes widened. "I thought you had left."

  "Respect," he grumbled.

  She dipped her head, almost bowing instead of nodding, and stood. Her hand stretched toward him, and although he did not need her aid nor wanted it, he accepted it and climbed to his feet.

  "Which way?" She craned her tanned, slender neck.

  "Let us break our fast first." He retrieved two large maple nuts from holly maple trees from his oversized sack. Twice the size of his large hand, the nuts were a delicious treat, crunchy and filling. The barbarian-princess stared at the huge nut in her hand for several moments. Lukor half-finished his before he said, "It's not going to bite you."

  She wrinkled her nose and took a small bite. Then a larger one. In time, Ivy finished hers a few seconds after Lukor polished off his.

  "Not bad." She licked her lips.

  "Eat mostly animals?"

  "Almost exclusively."

  "We goliaths eat both plants and animals. Our citadel contains a tree garden. Plants from all over the world are grown there. We harvest the nuts and berries and fruit and vegetables."

  "A tree garden? Must be lovely." She averted her gaze, most likely thinking how none save for goliaths ever see Orda Citadel, that she'd never have the chance to see it. Did she, too, like to explore? Mayhap curiosity was a feminine trait.

  "Perhaps, one day you can see it."

  Ivy lifted her chin slightly as she stared at him. "Before you kill me." Her voice was faint but hard. "At least I would die in a beautiful place. I trust the tree garden is beautiful?"

  "Very beautiful. And I'll make sure your death is quite quick."

  "But painful." She stepped forward, her body an inch from his, the skirt of her armored dress touching his dark pants.

  "Painless."

  Her lips quirked into a faint smile. "If I were to kill you first, it would be both quick and painless as well."

  "Then it shall have to remain to be seen whose reaction time is faster." He grabbed his axe, but the tip of her sword already touched his nose.

  Ivy grinned. "I have the quicker draw."

  "Ah, but I have the longer reach. And I've already bled you."

  Her eyes narrowed as she tucked her sword into its sheath. "That shall be the first and only time you best me. Now, shall I remove my blade once more or will you stop stalling and find the correct path?"

  "Do you not trust me?" Lukor ran his thumb against the sharp edge of one of the mooned axe blades. His skin easily slit open, the wound superficial. When she did not respond,
he eyed her. Her teeth worried her lower lip.

  She took a deep breath. "If I did not trust you, I never would have slept around you. Yet I have."

  "How did you sleep last night?"

  "Stop delaying!" Her hand moved toward her hilt.

  His axe swinging by his side, Lukor stepped forward. With the increased lighting of the rising sun, he could see the distinctions in the stone, the subtle variances in color from beige to cream to ecru, the layers of stone the dwarves had added later on to increase their stone domain.

  "Rather well," Ivy said suddenly, and Lukor knew she was referring to her slumber. A wide grin stretched across his face. She'd never know the role he'd played. Never again though.

  Up they climbed until the air grew thin, then around toward the other side. A rockslide had ruined the small stone bridge they needed to cross.

  "Why have you stopped?" Ivy snapped.

  Her wild mood swings did not bother him, not as they had previously. He rather expected them now.

  She skittered to his side, most likely because she could not see over his shoulder. "Can we not climb around it?"

  He pointed to the large rock teetering above them, a spray of smaller stones and pebbles falling down the side. "We would have to hurry."

  Ivy pushed on his back. "Go on then."

  The rockslide had been large enough for a few rocks to be used as jumping stones to cross the ruined bridge. Lukor moved swiftly, leaping from rock to rock. The next stone was fairly small, and it crumbled away beneath his weight.

  "Be careful!" Ivy called out.

  As if he needed to be told that. Foolish barbarian girl. Too emotional for her own good. A distraction he did not appreciate.

  His axe slammed into the rock, and he hung there, his legs dangling. A large jagged rock, sharp to a point, greeted him from feet below. From this height, it would surely pierce him should he fall.

  Which he had no intention of doing.

  The coldness of the air made the sweat on his palms even more slippery. He swung his legs back and forth, creating momentum, and jumped. His fingers gripped the harsh, jagged rock edges, and he pulled himself up easily. His axe he'd left behind. Two more jumps, and he'd reached the other side.