Lukor stared at the ceiling. 'Twas so high he almost could not see it. This hut was larger and taller than any other castle or ruler's dwelling place.
The golock finally strolled into the throne room, only to hesitate, one foot in midair, before waving the guards away. Balog slammed the stone doors shut himself, the walls of the hut shaking slightly. His firm, quick footsteps echoed throughout the room as he marched toward the throne. "Get out of my seat."
Lukor traced a skull on the right armrest. "My dear Balog, you've always been a demanding one."
"Why have you returned?" Balog hissed. His eyes, the blue during a vicious storm, flashed with anger, almost looking purplish for a moment. "Get off of my throne."
"Grumm angered the barbarians. What say you about them?" Lukor made no move to stand.
"If I have to remove you myself, I will," the golock threatened, his words barely more than growls and snorts.
Lukor's foot nudged his axe, another one from his vast collection, which he had claimed during his wanderings earlier. It now leaned against the wooden throne.
"You dare threaten me?" Balog puffed out his chest and reached over his shoulder. A mace came forward, in his hand, the three spiked balls attached to the weapon via metal chains twirling around.
"Is that Bruk's blood or Nazro's?" Lukor refrained from flinching as Balog whipped the mace down, each of the spikes landing a breath away from Lukor's stretched out legs.
Balog's wicked grin stretched across his face, both of his green colorings far darker than most other goliaths, almost black. "I will have you know they both begged for mercy before I killed them. As I will kill anyone who stands in my way, whether they be goliath or barbarian or anything else."
"Just what is it you want, Balog?"
He lifted his mace once more and pointed it toward Lukor, the bottom of the center spiked ball touching Lukor's right thigh. "Address me properly."
Lukor smirked. "O, Golock, tell me what it is you want most?"
Balog gripped Lukor's tunic and threw him out of the seat. Lukor landed on his hands and knees, and Balog stepped on his back to reclaim his throne. "Much better. You may stay in that position."
Lukor stood.
Balog's eyes clouded over. "I said—"
"I asked you about the barbarians." Lukor encircled the throne, pacing, nervous energy punctuating each step.
"There is more to the world than those brutes."
"So you mean to help the trolls to wipe out the barbarians and then what? Exterminate the trolls? Help the humans kill each other until none breathe? The elves? When will this madness end?"
"Of course not. What good would that do? I don't want all of the barbarians dead. They would make quite nice pets, if controlled properly. I hear their princess isn't quite ugly."
Definitely an understatement.
"And the trolls would make fine laborers." Balog stroked his bearded chin. "We need to expand our city, our domain. I want a larger citadel built. The humans will be my slaves. The dragons will also make exquisite pets. Just think, no longer would we have to endure the bitterness of winter without fire. Too much snow falls for us to ever sustain a fire for longer than two minutes. But their warmth..."
The goliath was beyond mad. Trying to overtake the entire world. He was almost as crazy as Ivy's father!
"How did your meeting go?" Lukor asked, still ringing the throne. "Not everyone was in attendance. I'm afraid I wasn't either."
The golock remained mute, but his jaw clenched and a muscle in his throat jumped.
"Not everyone accepts you as ruler yet," Lukor continued, coming to a halt in front of Balog. "Tell me, how many more goliaths in line to be golock will you kill? When will you stop?"
"How narrow minded of you."
"Ah, yes, you're an equal sex killer. Forgive me for leaving out the goliathas. I know Heda would never have begged."
"Ah, but Lucia..."
Lukor yanked the mace out of Balog's hand, but the golock already gripped Lukor's axe and had produced a morning star, perhaps from his back.
"And that is why you would not make a good golock. Far too emotional." Balog shook his head as he stood, weapons ready to block any blow. "I would be doing our people a favor by killing you."
Lukor swung at Balog's feet, but the golock merely stepped out of the way, toward the center of the room.
"Lucia would have never made a strong golempress either. You and she never should have been in the line of succession. Too weak and emotive."
"You talk too much." Lukor brought down the mace again.
If Balog wanted him dead, Lukor could only strive to kill him first.
A huge metal cage surrounded the perimeter of the human's land. Only a short man stood guard. "Hallow," he called down from his tower-like perch. "State your name and business."
"I am Ivy, Princess of the Barbarians."
Despite the hundreds of feet between them, she saw the disbelief in his eyes. She glanced down at her clothing. The armored bodice weathered many dents, and the skirt scarcely covered her upper thighs, let alone her knees and calves. And that wasn't mentioning the dirt and grime and soot and blood. Plus her long blond hair was all knotty.
"And your business?" he reiterated.
"I wish to talk to your leader or leaders. Whoever is in charge."
His response was a cross between a scoff and a laugh.
"The two warring leaders, if that is more clear." She crossed her arms.
"I'm afraid both are otherwise engaged at the moment."
"Trying to kill each other no doubt," she said dryly. "Aren't you humans tired of killing your own species?"
"Aren't you barbarians tired of killing everyone you come across?"
She flashed her teeth in a facsimile of a smile. "Come down here and say that."
She watched his Adam's apple bob. "I-I... I can't—"
"I know you don't have the clearance. Find someone who does. But let me in first."
He disappeared. Minutes ticked by and he did not appear. Ivy toyed with the idea of leaving when a small metal door opened. She hadn't even seen the lines of it when the door had been shut and had to move aside so as not to be stepped upon when a tall, distinguished man approached, wearing a uniform, his fashioned out of silk.
"Barbarian-Princess Ivy?" He dipped his head. "I am Prince Walter. How may I assist you?" After repeating her request, the prince pursed his lips, removed his green cap, and tucked it beneath his arm. "Come inside. I make no guarantees, but will try to accommodate you."
A young woman wearing the same clothes as the guard — a close-fitting tan shirt and brown pants — brought Ivy to a washroom. She was given privacy, and she relished the cool water on her face, cleansing her body. But no matter how she tried, she could not stop her hands from shaking. Too much weight burdened her. She'd already failed with Lukor. She could not fail yet again.
After being escorted to a small, nondescript room with a small square table and two metal chairs, Ivy waited. When Prince Walter returned unaccompanied, she closed her eyes and counted to two hundred and fifty. Still anger surged through her, and Bloodlust threatened to surface. "They won't stop fighting long enough to see me," she said blankly.
"The other one," he said with much contempt, "died on the battlefield." Yet he did not seem pleased by this. "Another duke has taken over, and we all are being called to battle immediately. I am afraid you'll have to leave now."
"All being called?" Ivy raised her eyebrows.
His cheeks colored slightly. "Well, not everyone, of course," he backtracked.
"Because that would leave you humans vulnerable to attack." She made a show of looking around. "Seem kind of thin as it is."
Prince Walter shoved his cap onto his head. "Stay here a moment."
"Of course," she stressed, the faintest of threats.
He nodded deeply and left.
Ivy ignored the chairs, hands clasped behind her back. After an hour passed, she paced around the table
, coming to an instant halt when the door knob turned.
A stark man wearing a decorated silk uniform entered, with Prince White a step behind.
"Barbarian-Princess Ivy, I regret that King Mason cannot be here with you today. I am Prince Frederick, next in line to be king. How may I help you?"
Even though he did not deserve the gesture, she curtsied, one leg sweeping behind the other as she dipped, back straight, opting for a human greeting versus a barbarian one. "Prince Frederick, I appreciate you taking time to see me. I have a proposal for you. I know how divided you all are. With the admiral dead, you and your side will mostly likely win in a short period of time. Once your nation is united yet again, will you consider becoming allies with barbarians and fight alongside us against the trolls?" She forced herself to speak slowly, but toward the end, the words tumbled out like a roaring waterfall.
The prince shook his head. "It could still take years until we are united again. However, I will bring your petition directly to the president myself." He turned to leave.
Ivy stepped forward, hand raised, inches from touching him. "If you were king, would you lend men?"
His eyes widened for a brief second. "I am in no position—"
"Their duke just died. Surely they will redouble their efforts to get to the king in retaliation," she pointed out.
His gaze shifted up and to the left. "Of course."
He was lying. Smart of him and yet so very stupid, too.
She swept closer to him. "I will one day be barbaroness, Prince Frederick. And I cater well to my friends. But my enemies? And those who betray me?" Ivy tilted her head and lifted a shoulder, almost as a mock apology.
Tiny droplets of sweat covered his forehead. "I'm a friend, of course. And the king is as well. Thank you for coming to us, and we will help, of course. Of course," he babbled, walking backward. He abruptly turned about and left.
Beyond aggravated, Ivy slammed her fist onto the metal table. The table dented so far it snapped in half.
So goliaths and humans were out. At least humans weren't going to join the trolls.
The distance she would have to roam in order to reach the dwarves was far too vast to be realistic. The elves had never been a likely ally in the first place. Nor the dragons.
The barbarians were on their own.
She had failed.
Still, she remained proud and stately as she could and followed Prince Walter out of the room and the entirety of the human domain. The clang of the metal door slamming shut almost made her wince, but she refused to show any weakness. With nowhere else to go, Ivy rushed toward Barbadia, fearful what she would find upon her arrival.
Balog swung his morning star and raised the axe. Before Lukor could slash with his mace, the morning star crashed toward his shoulder at the same time the axe lowered with incredible speed to crush his skull.
Lukor skittered out of the way. He'd been a fool to leave his axe where Balog could claim it, but he did have other weapons.
Including the shield. Now accustomed to its weight, he'd almost forgotten about it. He swapped the axe to his right hand and flipped the shield off his back, easily sliding his hand through the leather strap to hold it in place.
Balog shoved the axe so violently into the shield, to the left of the spiked center, the weapon remained there. Lukor used the distraction of Balog's tugging on the handle to slash at his stomach. The golock released the handle and jumped back. Only his chestplate came in contact with the mace, the spiked balls denting it in three places.
"Poor Lucia..." Balog shook his head. "If she could only see you now."
Lukor ground his teeth and swung the mace, releasing it. It arced through the air, the three spiked ball spinning. He dove forward and relinquished the morning star from Balog's hand, the mace still flying toward the golock's head.
Balog plucked the mace out of midair and brought it down, the metal chains of the spiked balls twirling around the morning star. Lukor struggled to pull the morning star free, or to loosen and break the golock's hold on the mace, but the other goliath was stronger than he was, although Lukor's fury fueled him. The entangled weapons jerked toward Lukor, then Balog, and back and forth again.
The golock yanked the weapons, and Lukor, closer. "What a pity, what happened to your sister."
"Do not speak of her." Lukor growled through clenched teeth. He couldn't take the weapons away from the golock.
"You were the one to find her, aye? Too bad you came too late, although that seems to be a common theme for you."
"Had I been here, our duel would have occurred days ago." His bicep was rapidly tiring from the constant tug and pull, so he shoved the joined weapons toward Balog, to throw him off kilter. Only the golock smiled, unfazed, and proceeded to yank the snarled weapons free from Lukor.
"Regardless of when, the end result will be the same." Balog's smile emphasized the contrast between his dark and darker green portions of skin.
Lukor managed to remove his axe from the shield in time to block Balog's blow. Then he brought up his shield arm and plowed forward, driving the spike into the center of Balog's chestplate, even knocking the golock back several steps.
Balog merely laughed. "Are you looking forward to seeing your sister soon?"
"Are you looking forward to seeing all those you murdered?" Lukor countered.
The glint of happy madness in Balog's eyes died. He lashed and attacked, now forcing Lukor back. The large indentation in the chestplate hadn't broken through completely. While Balog tried to separate the weapons, Lukor slammed his axe into the depression. The loud ding echoed throughout the room.
"I will not rest until you are dead." Lukor raised the axe for another blow, but Balog easily blocked it with the morning star and brought around the mace.
Lukor sidestepped it. That he had lasted this long was only a testament to his pigheaded determination. Balog was clearly toying with him. If he didn't figure out a way to better the goliath, Lukor would be the dead one.
It did not take Ivy long to return to the site of the fallen dragon. Nearby rested a dying wolf, with only a single set of wolf prints leading to this spot. Curious, 'twas no sign of its pack nearby. Then again, the wolf was mangy and clearly beaten up. Perhaps it had attacked the alpha and been thrown out.
Upon closer inspection, she saw a small opening. Something inside wiggled against the surface near it, and another hole opened. The wingless dread.
The creature fell onto the ground and crawled toward her. With haste and skill, Ivy forced her dagger through the wolf's hide and carved a small pouch. She shoved the dread inside it, careful to avoid its teeth, and used a piece of leather to tie it tightly shut. Who knew if this little insect could come in handy?
That accomplished, Ivy turned her back on her failed quest and halted only for small meals, not even bothering to rest. She raced across the land, trying to fuel a mental Bloodlust so her legs would not grow weary. Her mother's spirit, silent but vigilant, guided Ivy through the Spirit Realm faster than Ivy would have thought possible. Thus, she was able to reach the Mountains of Flyerdales in two days' time. Beyond the Forest of Gildersnatch laid Barbadia.
No more falcors came to her. Indeed, she saw few winged creatures in the sky. The stillness in the air had prevailed upon the land. Finding food was scarce. Perhaps the animals could feel the growing tension. At least the silence ensured war had not yet begun.
Damned trolls. Why did they want to blot out the barbarians anyhow? Sure, the two races had never gotten along. No one tended to suffer the trolls... or the barbarians for that matter. Yes, humans were petty, but none of the elder races were inclined toward the extreme brutality the other three races could commit.
Mayhap the earth would be better off if the three met in a colossal bloodbath from which none survived.
Ivy leaned against an oakpine tree on the outermost ridge of the forest. The trolls were the root of the problem. Her quest had been to learn their plan, and she had. Now, she must thwart it.
Orchid remained in the barbaron's good graces. If she had informed the barbaron of the potential siege, as well as the trolls trying to garner allies, perhaps Ivy could bartered more time for her people.
Which meant she had a choice to make: either return home and help with the preparation, or figure out another means to stop the attack from even happening.
If she could figure out what exactly the trolls wanted, perhaps she could reason with them.
Yes, and they would chop her head off and roast it and her body over a blazing fire.
Despite knowing how dangerous this was and realizing how little time she might have to live, Ivy turned around, away from Barbadia and toward the Land of the Skulls. That night, she sought cover in a hollowed out tree and managed to sleep slightly despite having to stand. Nightmares plagued her, as always.
She stayed inside the tree, waiting to see the violet sunrays, but none came. A torrid storm poured rain and sparks of fire from the sky. Ivy huddled up, unwilling to leave her somewhat safe haven. To pass the time, she used her sword and dagger to sharpen each other.
Lightning crashed, and a nearby bush caught on fire. A roar like a tiger sounded. Ivy held her breath, hoping the next bolt wouldn't strike her tree when she realized the source of the growl wasn't thunder but an actual tiger.
The majestic black tiger stood five feet away from her, a long scar above and below its left eye. It crouched before racing toward her, saliva flying from its mouth.
A ball of inferno flew down from the sky. Ivy darted forward, out of the tree, and knocked the tiger aside. The fireball fell to the earth where the animal had stood, the rain dousing the flames before it could spread.
The low growl was her only warning. Relying on instinct, Ivy jumped and landed on the tiger's back, facing his hind quarters. She grabbed its tail, and the tiger hissed but slowed down. Swinging her leg around, Ivy situated herself onto its back and pressed the tip of her dagger to its scar.
Slowly, the storm subsided. Ivy remained on top of the large predator, struggling to control it like a horse. It circled, facing toward Barbadia, before continuing around again.
Bloodlust Page 12
