Bloodlust

by Nicole Zoltack

  "Before he died then."

  "Another goliath killed him when I was five years old. I don't remember him."

  Sorrow filled her eyes. "I'm sorry. My relationship with mine is... We do not always see similarly on issues."

  "Would you do anything he asked of you?"

  "Of course not!" she said too swiftly, too forcefully.

  A likely story. Blood was all barbarians cared about. If anyone held an axe to her father's throat, she'd strike that person down, even if the axe-wielder was Lukor.

  He had stalled long enough. "I will see you again one day, Barbarian-Princess."

  Ivy dipped her head, almost bowing. Then she did bow, bending her knees slightly, her head near the ground but not touching it.

  He placed his right hand across his body to his left shoulder and bent at the waist.

  Lukor straightened, and they stared at each other. Her beautiful face a mask, frozen, before an emotion flicked in her eyes. His arms spread, and she nestled against his chest. He bent down to place his head on hers, rubbing her back. Despite being a barbarian, she'd saved him. His heart pounded in his chest like punches, and he struggled to breathe as she lifted her head to look at him, her lips inches below his.

  "Lukor Dalthu Cagan Ig Lob Tog Yambul Wraog Grukk Uzul."

  Lukor stiffened at the sound of his full name, as did Ivy. She staggered back out of his embrace, her hand at her throat. "Uzul? You're in line to become golock, aren't you? Aren't you!"

  Ignoring her, Lukor whipped around in time for Golic to clasp his shoulder and thump his chest.

  "It is good to see you," his friend said, two tightly wrapped braids on either side of his head swinging.

  "You received my message already?"

  "Yes. I was already out, doing some spying." Golic nodded to the west. " Golock Balog. You should have been ruler after Grumm. You must return home."

  Ivy wiggled her way in between them, her hair fluttering in the slight breeze that had started to blow, eyes wild. "Please, Lukor, you have to kill this Balog. As golock, you could stop this. You can rule the goliaths and spare the barbarians. I'm not even asking for aid. Merely stand back and watch. That's all I want. There can be a treaty between barbarians and goliaths and—"

  He spat in her face. All of the tenderness he might have felt for her, all of the gratitude fled. A barbarian had killed his sister. They had to pay, the bloody savages. Just look at her sword. Look at her ruined armored dress.

  Ivy stood unnaturally still as Lukor backpedaled a few steps before stalking away, Golic beside him. Ordisium, his home, called.

  Once they were out of earshot of that barbarian princess, Golic shook his head. "A lot has changed since you were away."

  Lukor did not glance over at his friend but still saw him rub his shaven chin, casting glances at him.

  "I understand why you left," Golic continued, "but we need you. Grumm angered the barbarians. Their barbaron had sent a small envoy — only two brutes — and Grumm had them slaughtered. Took five maces and nearly twenty arrows apiece to slay them."

  Lukor snorted. Grumm had shared his hatred of the barbarians. "What of Balog?"

  "He's a barbarian himself. Dividing the kingdom, causing strife and chaos in his wake. I would bet my bronze he was behind all of the murders."

  "Then you shall have to watch my back."

  Golic gripped his forearm, beneath his shoulder plates. "That I will. You never have to ask. Balog will not take kindly to your return. Rumor has spread of your death."

  "Only in Balog's dreams."

  Lukor contemplated explaining to Golic that he had left not for a break from grief but to find enough reasoning for the goliaths to go to war against the barbarians, but what was the point now considering how at odds the goliath race was itself?

  The two increased their pace to a vicious run, the yellow grass giving way to desert sands. After hunting and striking down a bear-dog, Lukor and Golic prepared the meat and ate. Lukor threw a bone onto the picked-clean carcass. Throughout the meal, Golic had glanced at him and then away, so Lukor said, "Speak freely."

  Golic shook his head and wiped grease from his chin, the remnants shining in the dimming light.

  "Go on," Lukor prodded.

  "Your... ah... companion..."

  Lukor pointed with his boot to the shield. "Hers."

  "So?"

  Ah, Golic did not recognize her. Or perhaps he did and was merely trying to grant him a measure of privacy. But he and Golic had been through too much for him to hide anything from him. 'Twasn't anything to hide.

  Although what must Golic think, seeing him embrace a barbarian. His heart pounded a swift tune in his chest, and he shook his head. "Barbarian-Princess Ivy."

  Golic's yellow eyes widened. "Oh."

  "I hadn't known Grumm would become golock and anger theirs, ensuring war by his treachery."

  "You thought her shield would be enough to garner their barbaron's attention? More so than her head?"

  "I am not a barbarian," Lukor growled.

  Golic nodded, but his eyes looked hooded.

  "Spit it out."

  The goliath stared at the ground, shuffling his feet, nudging the bones.

  "Every barbarian will die. I will see to it."

  Golic locked gazes with him, grinning viciously. "Rest. I'll keep watch tonight."

  Lukor shook his head. "No, we march through the night. The sooner we return home, the better."

  His friend said not a word and cleared up their small encampment.

  Before they started off, Lukor clasped both hands on Golic's shoulders. "What happened between you and my sister?"

  Golic cleared his throat. "We were engaged since we turned eighteen. Two years..."

  "By the waterfall."

  A wide grin split his lips before he swallowed hard. "Oh... well... I'm sure Lucia... ah..."

  "She thinks of you often."

  "You saw her? You traversed the Spirit Realm? Shall we go through it?" Golic refused to stop talking until they had walked many miles. As if they could possibly backtrack to the Realm and prolong their return.

  The relentless heat of the desert stole Lukor's breath away. Although the night was significantly cooler, eventually he stopped them so he could rest. Even then, Golic's tongue continued to roll r's. Lukor drifted off to his monologue, his dreams full of memories of both Lucia and Ivy.

  Long moments slipped away before Ivy climbed to her feet. She still couldn't breathe right or wrap her mind around it. Lukor. An Uzul. In line to be golock.

  Her cheek was still damp from his wad of spit. Ivy wiped it away. She did not need him. She would find another way to help the barbarians. By now, Orchid would have received her message.

  If it had not been intercepted. She wouldn't be surprised if Angar was calling out to every falcor he saw.

  The blackness of the nighttime sky revealed no flying objects and she heard no animals, other than rustling of a few nocturnal scavengers. It was far past time for her to leave.

  Still, she hesitated, gazing in the direction the goliaths had left. Lukor would ensure the barbarians would die. Would he kill her too? She now knew she could never kill him, under any circumstances.

  Yes, leave, but where to? Going home empty-handed would do nothing to help her people. That she had not heard official word that war had started led her to wonder if perhaps she spare more time to rally some allies.

  But who? The dragon — Shela — might have been an outcast from her winged brethren, but the chances were nil the beasts would align themselves with a dragon slayer.

  The dwarves? Surely they kept watch over the Rocks, and knowing she'd been there would not help the cause.

  The elves were intriguing, but they scorned fighting and never bothered to partake in wars. Might not be strong warriors anyhow, so long were they out of practice.

  The road to the elves' domain was wrought with danger and arduous. Even so, the notion of seeking out the one who had her blood droplets enthra
lled her. But that elf had pursued her, and she knew not where to find him.

  The haunting words of the dead elf made her shudder. If others elves wanted the barbarians to fall, as they well might, they wouldn't lift a finger to aid her.

  The humans remained a possibility, mostly because of their close proximity. Early tomorrow morning, she could reach their land. Perhaps they would be more receptive toward a treaty than Lukor had.

  Her heart skipped a beat, and her hands clenched into fists. She'd been so stupid to trust him, to let him in. To think that she had saved his life when he'd been lying to her.

  And what would have you done differently had you known who he was from the start? a voice at the back of her mind asked.

  Fought him into submission, tied him up, forced him back to Ordisium, and demanded the goliaths fight alongside the barbarians if they wanted him back. Of course, she'd have to kill those who had been in line before him, but it seemed another goliath had lofty goals. The goliaths were rather barbaric themselves.

  Chances were good that plan could have backfired, but at least she would have been in a better place to negotiate for her people.

  One thing she did know, she could not return home. Not yet. For all she knew, her father had ordered the barbarians to kill her on sight. The source of all this madness rested on her father's mantle. She would not be surprised if somehow he was the underlying cause for the trolls' initial dissent with the barbarians.

  Humans it was. That settled, Ivy rushed toward them, running as if her life depended on it. Which was the case. Without help, she, and the rest of the barbarians, would surely die.

  The two goliaths pressed on, sleeping only when their leg muscles refused to cooperate, and within another day, the line of trees that marked the perimeter of their kingdom came into view. The sight of the sturdy, thick green barks with the vibrant red and brown leaves, the smell of its wood, welcomed him home as nothing else, save his sister's arms, could have greeted him.

  No goliath stood at the westernmost entrance, and Lukor raised his eyebrows at Golic.

  His comrade shrugged. "I told you. Division within the ranks. I fear we shall become little better than the humans if he remains ruler for much longer."

  "What of Karrina?" The goliatha to be ruler after Balog, should Lukor himself not claim the throne.

  "Since the killing of the rulers, she has kept mostly in hiding. A few had thought she might be the one orchestrating them, but I think she merely wants to save her own bronze." Golic patted a fist to his bronze chainmail.

  Lukor had to forgo his own suit of bronze in order to masquerade as a tall barbarian. He missed its weight.

  "Might even prove an ally for you," Golic add.

  "If she does not wield a dagger to shove into my backside."

  "Never leave home without that shield upon your back." Golic rasped a weak laugh at his pathetic joke.

  Their half-wooden, half-stone huts appeared empty, with no goliaths walking amidst the cobble paths. Even the plants and bushes did not seem quite as alive as they had prior to Lukor's leaving. The air felt stagnate. No grass or flowers bloomed beneath their heels. Considering neither felt much joy, this was not a surprise. Only the happiest of goliaths could call forth the plants to grow faster than time normally allowed.

  They walked into the center of Ordisium. The stream of the stone fountain barely trickled down to the wide basin, the carved goliatha the water sprouted from nicked at the chest, the tip of her stone spear cut off. Orda, the first goliatha, their Eve.

  "Where is..." Lukor started to ask when a gust of wind blew loose a piece of parchment from the nearby wooden post. He grabbed it and learned the answer to his question. "A meeting for all goliaths fighting age. At noontime today."

  As one, the two goliaths glanced up at the sky. Noontime had started only a short time ago.

  They jogged through the square to the meeting hall: a huge stone building, with large gaping openings that stretched from the roof to the floor in lieu of doors and windows. The hall was only half-filled. If all the fighting age goliaths and goliathas — those from ten until one hundred and ten — had turned out, not all of them would have fit within the stone walls. Divided indeed, but where were the rest?

  Lukor shoved Golic forward before any could see him. He shooed him inside and wandered about the city, looking for signs of life, only seeing evidence of battles. Stained blood on the stones, littered spears and axes, ripped clothing, tufts of hair, even shards of bronze from destroyed armor.

  After walking on for some time, he approached the tree garden — Garden of Orda — in front of Orda Citadel. Often times, he, his sister, and Golic had meandered through the trees, tasting their sweet or sour or tangy fruit. The trio had been inseparable, and no one had been surprised when Lucia and Golic announced their engagement. Friendship had transformed into love. They had three years together before Lucia's murder.

  A hundred small stones statues lined the center of the tree gardens with wooden fountains between them. At the end, four statues were in the process of being carved: Bruk's, Nazro's, Grumm's, and Balog's. Curiously, Balog's, and not Bruk's, was the closest to being completed. Had probably threatened the sculptor's life if his wasn't completed first.

  His fingers touched the shoulder of Heda's statue. A fair and just ruler, she had wanted peace for not only the goliaths, but also all of the world. Still, she had sent him away to discover if they should go to war. Most likely, she had hoped he would fail. Far too trusting. He raised his right hand to his left shoulder and bowed to her. The other rulers who had fallen during his absence he did not extend the same courtesy.

  Around the perimeter of the statues and fountains climbed the various trees. Scents of vanilla, cinnamon, and an assortment of berries assaulted his nose, and he idly plucked fruits from the vines and branches. Once he had his fill, he abandoned the tree garden and spied a plume of smoke rising from a large hut. With great haste, he ventured there and found the rest of the goliaths.

  Whispers and averted gazes greeted him, and the goliaths parted for him to walk inside the dwelling. A tall goliath with black paint covering his face stopped talking mid-sentence when he saw Lukor. He bowed. "We are most pleased you have returned."

  "Why are you all gathered here instead of at Balog's meeting?" Lukor addressed the entire assembly, his arms spread wide, looking at those who met his gaze.

  The tall goliath, Varo, said, "We do not accept Balog as our ruler."

  "So what plans have you?" Despite Varo's war paint, Lukor did not see any weapons on a single goliath or goliatha.

  "We were going to... It doesn't matter. You're here. You can—"

  "You can treat the ruler of the goliaths with respect," Lukor bit off, his stomach churning at the idea of the vile Balog being said ruler. He should have killed Balog long ago. Ever since he had been added to the line of succession, Balog had often taunted and bullied the other goliaths. Even earlier, he'd always been arrogant and thought only of himself. So emotional, too emotional. A barbaric goliath if ever there was one.

  But still, if the goliaths were to be reunited under a new ruler — himself or Karrina — then they needed to have deference for the position of authority.

  Varo opened and shut his mouth several times.

  A goliatha stepped forward and swept back her long black hair. "I can take you to Karrina, if you wish to see her."

  Varo grunted, his displeasure clearly evident.

  Lukor shook his head. "No need." He clasped a hand on the taller goliath's shoulder and squeezed until Varo's knees buckled. "Do you want to become like the humans and fight your own brethren?"

  "O-of course n-not," he sputtered.

  "Or act like barbarians and not care if goliath blood is spilt by goliaths?"

  Varo tried to jerk free.

  Lukor held fast. "Do you want Balog to be your golock? Will you bow to him?"

  "Right now, Balog is golock," Varo protested. "That is all that matters."


  Lukor stalked away. Aye, that was all that mattered. For now.

  Chasing ends that were deader than his sister. Wasting time. Running around without a plan.

  "What am I supposed to do?" Lukor muttered to himself, his head down. He had abandoned those goliaths and goliathas to continue their talk.

  The problem wasn't that he didn't know what to do. The problem lay with the execution. Killing Balog would not be easy. Balog was even a more skilled warrior than he. Whether through lackeys or deception or even outright killing himself, he'd slain four rulers. He'd have no qualms fighting and killing Lukor.

  It was a battle Lukor knew he would lose.

  Perhaps Balog could be reasoned with. After all, he was now golock. He had what he wanted.

  Not that one could reason with a vicious, savage male who more resembled a barbarian than a goliath.

  He wearily rubbed his face. Then he straightened his tunic and lifted his chin, straightening to his full height. With a proud swagger, not even bothering to reclaim his armor, he marched through Ordisium back to their main hut, Orda Citadel. The two posted guards did not acknowledge him, so he strolled inside and sat upon the throne.

  Made from the bark of every tree in their garden — all twelve hundred of them — with intricate carvings and details, the throne was majestic. The outline of the tree from their crest had been painted upon the chair's back. Its blackness contrasted nicely with the different colored woods. So smooth and seamless, the woods of the trees were. The bark had adapted to its home as a chair and managed somehow to produce roots and continued to grow, slowly, slightly, with fresh designs carved into the freshest growth yearly.

  He rested his arms on the armrest. The seat of the chair seemed to conform to his body as he sat. Perhaps only a figment of his imagination. Or perhaps the bark throne was conscious and knew who he was.

  Lukor knew what had to be done.

  He was ready.

  His nerves remained settled as time passed. Perhaps he should have remained with Golic and learned what Balog wanted, or even challenged him there, but now was not the time for second guesses. Now remained the time for action.