Bloodlust

by Nicole Zoltack

  A low growl pierced the tension growing between them. A huge form jumped over Ivy's head. The black tiger launched itself at her father.

  The barbarian-princess leapt onto the animal's back. Although the beast opened its mouth, reaching to tear out her father's throat, she pulled back on its ears. The tiger growled but responded to her swift heel kicks into its side, launching forward.

  Glancing behind her, she saw her father still on the ground, on his stomach now, slamming the ground with his fists. The obscenities he screamed rang in her ears as she left him behind, her mount racing toward home. Her father's battle gear... Had the war started already? Was her father that much of a coward he would leave the field ravaged, drenched in blood, while he and his henchman attempted to assassinate her? Knowing Angar, he would have helped her father get rid of her, as she was his biggest barbarian threat. Then he would have knifed her father in the back to try to take the throne for himself.

  Death and destruction. All the barbarians knew.

  Her thoughts returned to those children she had seen before leaving Barbadia. They had kindness. It had not been stifled out of them. Perhaps the youngest among them knew more than the adults.

  Why the tiger came back she didn't know, and she didn't question it when he dumped her at the edge of Barbadia and charged back the way they had come.

  Stay away from Father, my friend. He will tear you from limb to limb.

  Ivy wiped her forehead, shoving back her long hair. Too late she remembered the blood on her hand.

  Returning home was heart stopping. The scene before her stole her breath away and had her reaching for the longsword.

  In the middle of Barbadia, high up on a hill, sat their fortress. Surrounding it were hordes of trolls, tall and massive, dark and nasty. The sight of them fueled her inner fire. The heaviness of the longsword — she didn't feel it. The whipping wind swirling around her — she didn't feel it. The heat of the newly dawning sun — she didn't feel it. All she felt was the burning desire to smite her enemies.

  With a warrior cry, Ivy charged forward. The marketplace had been abandoned, every stall empty of its wares. All barbarians, since they learned how to walk, were taught how to use weapons, how to attack, how to defend. They weren't given true weapons until they were deemed ready and only while supervised. Would Father have been so desperate he would send their future into battle? The trolls would have no qualms killing every last barbarian, even ones only days old.

  Near the edge of the market, an unbridled horse wandered into her path. Ivy claimed him and raced toward the fortress. Thousands of trolls barred her path. The thunder of the horse's hooves churning the dirt had those closest turning toward her. The flash of her blade was the last sight they saw as she forced them aside, her horse trampling the slower ones.

  Hundreds of trolls converged on her. Instead of attacking her, they rushed the horse. The beast's yells sounded over the cries of the trolls she assaulted. When the horse buckled, Ivy stood on the horse and jumped backward, her hands high above her. Her fingers brushed against the long branch of a tree, and she managed to grab it and pull herself up.

  The branch dipped low from her weight, and she crawled along it toward the trunk. A cluster of trolls surrounded the base, attempting to uproot her tree. To distract them, she fired several arrows. Quicker than a racehare, she manipulated her nimble fingers and sparked a fire from some timber. Her fingers burned as she tied the smoldering remnants to an arrow. To prevent the fire from extinguishing, she shot the arrow straight down. Three more tries, and the tree blazed, and a few trolls as well.

  Smoke 'em out. While the dwarves lived within the stone, deep in the earth, the barbarians carved their dwellings from boulders on top of the soil. The fire would not harm the marketplace or any of the dwellings, and especially not the fortress.

  She reattached her silverbow to her back. To her surprise, a few trolls were trying to put out the fire from their comrades, but several had already charred to death. Flames eagerly ascended the tree trunk, smoke billowing toward her. Satisfaction filled her as, through watery vision, she spied numerous patches of fire spreading throughout the land.

  Swan-diving, Ivy leapt off the branch. Her feet collided with a troll's back. He crumbled to the ground and would stay there as her dagger pierced his spine. The mini fires grew and engulfed more of the land. To some extent, it forced the trolls closer toward the fortress, but it also took out many of them, far quicker than if she had not started them. A few fiery trolls ran from the fight, shrieking as their skin melted.

  Smoke made it difficult to see, but she didn't need her vision to fight. Sounds guided her — the whiz of a weapon hurling toward her, the breathing of her opponent, grunts, howls, the screams of the dying. Her arms never stopped moving, longsword in one hand, dagger in her other. The thudding of her heart matched the thudding of her weapons against either flesh and bone or blade or armor.

  When the Bloodlust rose within her this time, she didn't even think about it. It coated her closer than her skin, and she embraced it like a lover. Blood would rain.

  Small fires ringed by stones encircled by tiny trees dotted the outer fields of Ordisium. The goliaths and goliathas sat on the lowest branches. Although small, the sturdy branches could support the weight of even the heaviest of goliaths.

  Lukor traveled to each fire, talking with the goliaths gathered there, determining who was on his side and accepted his leadership.

  Karrina's steady gaze drew his attention at the next fire. She gestured to the empty tree branch beside her. At the other stone tribunes, Lukor hadn't bothered to sit, but he did now, eagerly. His muscles were tight, and he needed to relax. The feast would be ready soon, and then he would have an hour or two of sleep before meeting with his goleaders to determine their route and plan of attack.

  "How are you all?" Lukor gazed at the other five goliaths.

  "We had been talking," Karrina answered. "About you."

  His lower back ached, and he rubbed it. "Speak freely."

  "Where were you? When the other leaders were being massacred?"

  He met her gaze without flinching. "I am here now. That is all that matters." The need to explain himself grew within him, but he squished it like a duggle bug. He did not need to be second guessed.

  Karrina nodded and licked her lips. "I, for one, am glad you are back."

  Lukor bared a faint smile and turned to address the other goliaths, but they had all left.

  A hand touched his knee, and he almost jumped. Karrina leaned in so close he noticed a green ring surrounded her brown eyes. "You and I, we could make certain the goliaths do not ever have to fear that their leader will be short lived."

  The warmth of her touch burned through his pants. He shifted his leg slightly to try to deter her, but her hand remained.

  "Why should there remain a line of succession?" she continued. "Why not—"

  "Our ancestors formed the line of succession for a reason."

  "It's archaic."

  "It's reasonable."

  She sidled closer somehow. Her branch must be as wide as it was tall. "Would it be so terrible to contemplate something new?"

  He snorted, and she pulled back, her teeth reflecting the firelight. Tradition was all they had. Several humans and dwarves had united around the same time, giving rise to the first goliaths. The first goliatha born grew up to become the first ruler. The others, her successors. As the goliath line grew, the current ruler added someone to the end. Far more fair than declaring one family royalty when nothing special coursed through their blood to make them more superior than their fellow species.

  "Not everyone is happy with you." She stared at the fire.

  "I did not expect global happiness."

  "What did you expect?" In the shadows of the night, her dark skin looked almost black. Unlike most goliaths, she had almost no lighter shades of green.

  "I... I do not know." The admission was painful. Being ruler was not easy. Perhaps staying her
e, in Ordisium, would be better than rushing off to war, especially with his people so divided, their loyalty in question. Some he had already spoken to had been quiet, and he knew they preferred Karrina to him.

  "Everyone knows you hate the barbarians," she said quietly, a hint of compassion in her voice, tinged with a clear warning.

  "What do you want from me?" he asked abruptly.

  Karrina stood and approached him. He held still as she placed her hands on his cheeks, but when she lowered her face toward him, he jerked back and scrambled to his feet.

  "You have eyes for someone else?" There was no sadness in her eyes. No love either. Perhaps she did want power, more than he had first thought.

  He opened his mouth to say, "No," but couldn't. His first thought had been of Ivy. Her firm, muscled body, slender despite her power. A beauty to behold when she fought.

  She's killed goliaths, he reminded himself.

  So have I.

  "Who is she?" Karrina asked, her voice strangely soft.

  "There is no one." How could he even think of Ivy in such a fashion? And yet when he stared at the fire, he could see her dancing within the flames, lithe and fluid, passionate and full of life. Captivating purple eyes. A single scar on her face. More marred her backside. He recalled water trickling down her hair as she bathed. He found himself imagining—

  No. How could he think such thoughts? She was a barbarian. A goliath killer. The enemy. Nothing more.

  "Lying to yourself will only bring you misery. Why not try for happiness?"

  "The golock does not have the luxury of happiness."

  "Oh, but I disagree. He could have all he wants. And more." She reached toward the collar of her leather dress.

  Lukor dipped his head toward her in farewell. "I have much to do tonight."

  He did not wait for a response and moved from stone tribune to stone tribune at a much faster pace. At one where only goliathas sat, each flirted with him. He found himself comparing each to Ivy, ridiculous as that was. Ivy's skin was tanned, a solid color, without light and dark markings. How strange he had thought her face when he had first come across her. It felt like so long ago, even though they had known each other less than a moon's cycle.

  The goliathas' compliments he accepted, but their offer for him to stay he declined. As he walked toward the next stone tribune, he spied two forms in the darkness. His hand went to the axe at his side until he realized it was a couple and what action they were engaging in. Tracing along another's dark markings was almost a magical moment for goliaths, an experience he had never felt. Goliaths mated for life. Several had gone mad with grief when their loved one had died. After losing Lucia, Lukor couldn't bear the thought of growing close enough to someone to even look at their markings closely.

  Ivy didn't have any.

  Why could he not stop thinking of her?

  Because he knew well the chances that he would see her in the morn and he knew not how he would react or she. The idea of fighting barbarians did not frighten him, but the idea of fighting her made him more than a little uneasy.

  Sleep did not come to him that night. He and his goleaders marked a map of their course. Then he changed into his armor, the bronze completing him. Shortly before the first rays of purple sunlight shone upon the land, the armed goliaths and goliathas mounted their war hogs and rode on to war and freedom.

  The sounds of the battle faded away as Ivy wounded trolls, hacking her enemies, trying to carve her way closer toward the fortress. Yet more and more trolls barred her path. The thrill of the Bloodlust still consumed her and controlled her arms, forcing the enemy back. A few dents and nicks marred her armor bodice, but she felt no pain, whether because none of their blades had touched her or if she was in the midst of war too much to feel it she didn't know.

  A drop of wetness touched her face. Not blood. Rain.

  No clouds had dotted the sky earlier, and none did now, but a torrid of raindrops fell. At the top of a nearby, non-burning tree sat a figure. Ivy jumped onto the head of the short troll in front of her and walked across the field on their shoulders to reach the tree. With ease, she climbed until she could get a good look of the person.

  An elf. He looked strangely familiar, and Ivy almost let go off the trunk when she recognized him. The elf was identical to the one she had spoken to in the Spirit Realm, the one who had foretold the end of her people.

  Ivy threw her dagger at the elf, but he flicked his hand and the knife flung harmlessly into the crowd of trolls. The drenching rains extinguished her fire's handiwork within seconds.

  We barbarians will be defeated.

  No.

  She refused to give up.

  Once more giving into the Bloodlust, Ivy jumped down from her perch. The instant her legs touched the ground, the rain stopped. Her feet slid against the mud, and she shoved her sword through the nearest troll. Blood trickled from his nose, reddening the extra bone all trolls had through their septum.

  The sound of marching distracted the trolls around her, and she quickly killed them for their lack of self-preservation. Dimly, through the haze of Bloodlust, she caught one word from a troll.

  "Goliaths."

  Ivy continued to attack, thrusting her sword at every heartbeat she heard, ending them, killing and slaughtering everyone. Blood flew back toward her face and clothes each time she brought her sword up and prepared for another strike.

  The whiz of a weapon coming toward her backside had Ivy whipping around, bringing her sword in a wide arc. She sliced into the troll's stomach and kicked his body out of the way, his mace coming nowhere near her as he crumpled to the muddy ground. The thumping of heartbeats rang loudly in her ear. She had to stop them. Silence was her aim.

  Her cloudy vision recognized one sight. A goliath dismounted from his war hog. She knew those markings, did she not? His tall form. Huge muscles. Green eyes. The thudding of his heart... Did she want to end it too?

  Coming out of Bloodlust voluntarily Ivy had never attempted before, not even after shoving that monstrous boulder away. Then she had focused on insects and rock-rats, their heartbeats and once she had ended them, she had come out of it naturally. Now, she forced herself to return to her senses, halting the Bloodlust at its height. The sensation of her body being torn from limb to limb washed over her as tears soaked her cheeks. Such pain she had never experienced before. Agony stretched across every limb. Still, she fought on, ignoring the goliaths, striking the trolls, killing them through her own means, and not through Bloodlust.

  A solid form, almost like a stone wall, pressed against her back. She ignored it and pressed on, the longsword spearing through not one but two trolls at the same time.

  "You need a bath," a familiar voice said.

  "I don't smell as bad as your breath," she retorted.

  Lukor yanked on her left shoulder, forcing her to face him. The distance between them was nonexistent. She stared at him, taking in his strange features, especially his two-toned skin. But his eyes — green with copper specks — called to her, even more than she could bear. The savage battle continued around them. She dimly saw goliaths milling around them, forming a protective circle.

  "Always covered in blood," he murmured, and she couldn't tell if that was a complaint or a compliment.

  "What do you want?" Ivy couldn't look away, but from her side vision, she saw goliaths attacking trolls. How could that be?

  Her heart pounded within her chest, aching with each pulse. It felt like someone was stabbing her, punching her ribs from the inside out. She had planned on shedding a great deal of blood this day — had already and anticipated an even greater amount more — but his blood she would not touch.

  His large hand wiped her face, probably smearing blood more than removing it. She closed her eyes against his gentle touch despite the roughness of his palm. A second pass, a third. Her lips pursed together, and she almost kissed his hand.

  Ivy eased back out of his embrace although one of his arms still touched her hip. "W
hy are you here?"

  His forehead touched hers, and she gazed up at him. His face was too hard to read, but his eyes, oh his eyes, they were unfathomable.

  "I am Golock."

  Hope, that damned flower, tried to bloom within her chest, but she shoved it away, uprooting it. "O Golock, what do you wish of me?"

  "You once asked me to kill the golock, so I could take his place and rule in his stead."

  He had done it, for her. For himself too, she knew, but her as well. The next task was up to her. "It is past time for the barbarians to have a new ruler. They have sorely needed a barbaroness for some time now."

  "If you were to be the leader, and not your father, I think we goliaths might not have such a disagreement with your race."

  Now the flower not only bloomed, it transformed into hundreds of flowers, some green, some purple, enough to fill her heart twenty times over.

  "A treaty," she breathed.

  "Aye."

  "On one other condition."

  His eyes darkened, and she brought her hand up to touch his cheek. Her fingers touched the tip of his light green nose. His skin felt as smooth as her own, no difference in texture from slightly darker apple-green to the lighter yellow-green.

  "Name it," he growled, but his eyes had lightened. He looked good in armor, strong and powerful. Like the ruler he was.

  "The trolls are surprisingly organized. If their leader were to fall..."

  "Consider it done." Lukor grasped her hand and yanked it up to his mouth. His lips felt firm and yet soft against her skin.

  In that moment, time stood still. All that mattered was him and her. Far too soon, the sounds of the war flooded back into her soul.

  But the fight she would engage was far more personal than the vile trolls.

  Ivy would be triumphant.

  Or she would be dead.

  Seeing Ivy again had jolted him. Revived him. Awakened him as if from a deep slumber. Lukor hadn't expected to feel such a rush from their reunion. His feelings for her wavered between hatred and something akin to lust. How barbaric of him.