Bloodlust

by Nicole Zoltack

  "Steel," she breathed, wishing she hadn't stood so close to the window that she might back up to increase the distance between them.

  "What were you laughing at?" he asked, his hands bracing against the sides of the windows, barring her path to freedom.

  Ivy moved to try to duck beneath his arm, but Steel's right hand went to her throat. Heavy, too warm, his palm pressed against her skin, gentler than she would have thought possible, yet she felt the strength he was holding back.

  "You have such a beautiful laugh," he continued.

  "I must be going." She reached to put her hands on his chest when he tightened his grip on her neck. Her vision darkened in patches, and she struggled to breathe. With a yank, he ripped off chunks of her dress. Despite only using one hand, he managed to undress himself.

  Ivy struggled against him, clawing, punching, kicking. Why couldn't her Bloodlust kick in? Thunhall had been able to conjure it against a barbarian, but despite Steel's obvious want for her, by any means necessary, she couldn't find it within herself.

  "No goliath will claim what is ours," he hissed, drawing her face to his. His lips pressed against hers, and she waited until his tongue tried to ease into her mouth before biting.

  Blood squirted, and he jerked back. He stumbled over his discarded clothes.

  Ivy seized her chance. She grabbed his arm and tugged, yanking him forward. Before Steel could react, she tossed him out the window.

  With a sickening thud, he landed within the freshly dug moat, his body broken and twisted.

  Her heart slamming against her ribs as her fists had his rock hard body, Ivy stared down at him. How close he had gotten to having his way with her. Her vow to the elf, and her promise to Lukor, would have been ruined, and her life would have been forfeit.

  That cannot happen again.

  By now, the barbarians had halted their work and rushed over to Steel's still body. Ivy stared at her ruined armored dress. From beneath her bed, she retrieved a wooden trunk that contained her mother's precious remaining belongings. After her death, Thunhall had wanted to burn it all. Ivy had managed to save most of it.

  With hands that did not tremble, Ivy changed out of her ruined garb and into fresh ones. Head high, she descended the stairs and approached the drawbridge as several barbarians carried the despicable killed barbarian inside.

  "Get him out of my fortress," she said, the words burning her throat like acid.

  Two of the barbarians complied, although they grumbled and shot her angry glances. Helm carried Steel's head. Before he left, he grunted, and the other barbarian halted. Over his shoulder, he asked, "Must we all be careful or else we'll be killed by your hand?"

  "If you truly thought you had to be careful with your tongue if you value your life, you never would have asked me such a question. Now go," she demanded.

  Glaive entered as the others exited. "He's naked."

  Ivy crossed her arms. "Very astute observation."

  "He raped you, didn't he?"

  She barked a laugh, the sound so much rougher than the gaily laugh she had enjoyed moments before Steel nearly ruined everything. "You think that little of your barbaroness that I would allow someone to defile my body?"

  His knotted eyebrows and the tight line of his eyes screamed that he thought she already had.

  "You told them about Lukor and me. Did you even bother to explain that my life was on the line?"

  Glaive jerked back. "Not I, O Barbaroness. I would never. No, the others suspect, but I have not told them. That is on you."

  A rush of relief filled her. Perhaps Glaive, at least, could be trusted because even Helm seemed cold toward her. Then the icy fingers of fear spread throughout her body. Steel had tried to take her for himself without knowing for certain about her and Lukor. When the others found out, they might well try it themselves in order to ensure their race's survival.

  Not that the elf would allow her to live long enough to carry a babe until birth.

  "None will try that again," Glaive said softly.

  "I do not need..." She dipped her head. "Thank you."

  He slipped out. Although he did not bother to bow, she didn't feel insulted by the slight. Unwilling to face the barbarians, she hurried to the kitchen and cut long strips of meat before calling everyone inside.

  The meat remained in the kitchen, and the barbarians shot her horrible looks as they sat down on the benches in the mess hall.

  "Yes, I killed Steel," she said without preamble.

  The silence in the room was suffocating.

  "He attacked and assaulted me." From beneath the closest table, she dug out her ruined dress. The metal of the armored bodice clanged against the table. "Wanted to take me as his own. Let me be quite clear, if any of you would dare to try that, the end result will be the same. I so swear it to be true."

  Ivy glanced around at their hard faces. Sweat dripped from their foreheads, their swollen muscles bulging from the strain of their labor. They were working hard, and how had she repaid them?

  By killing one of their own.

  Glaive nodded, a serious look on his face.

  Ivy swallowed past the growing lump in her throat. Her neck pained her fiercely. She could still feel Steel's hands on her, and she suppressed a shudder.

  "I know you are all wondering why I haven't chosen your barbaron yet, might even be thinking that Steel had the right of things..." The lump shifted from her throat to her stomach followed by a wave of nausea. If any of them had such a despicable thought, she would not have any qualms killing them too. In a rush, she explained the deal with the elf, neglecting to mention her love for the goliath she was promised to.

  But from the scowl of Glaive's face, she realized he knew.

  Each of the other barbarian's wore matching expressions of fury: pinched eyebrows, whitened faces, suppressed lips, narrowed eyes, and clenched fists. Katar stared at the table, but even his shoulders were dejected.

  "I know I have let you all down. I did not realize the extent of our dilemma when I agreed," she said, desperation creeping into her voice. "Believe me—"

  "You should have died." Grim stood. His skin was darker than most barbarians, worn from years working beneath the sun's relentless rays. "A goliath? You disgrace us."

  "Had I done that, you would still be in the same situation," she said dryly, crossing her arms. "No female to mate with."

  Katar lifted his head but neglected to stand. "How many of us would have chosen death when the opportunity for life was presented to us? Ivy did what any of us would have done. To survive, we have all done questionable things, have we not?"

  Glaive did stand, and all gazes turned to him. "Had Ivy died, we would have all fought each other to determine who would rule us next, even to the point that none of us might have survived. No matter how we look at it, whether or not Ivy lived, we are condemned."

  The mood in the room shifted from rage to despair.

  Ivy placed her hands on the table for support. "We will get through this. Do not worry."

  A few faces turned stony, but some nodded. Perhaps they might come around, but it would take time, perhaps even years. Trust did not come easy to barbarians.

  The sound of a new heartbeat pulsed in her ears, and Ivy turned to Helm. "A meal has been prepared for you all. Please, bring it out. I will return momentarily."

  The barbarian left the room. The others were beginning to talk amongst themselves, and she hadn't the time to listen. She stalked toward the drawbridge. Outside the fortress stood a human, one she recognized.

  "Prince Walter, what brings you so far from your domain?" She bristled at the lone human before her. Why could he have not brought a legion of soldiers with him and have arrived days ago?

  "I have recently come into some classified information that you will find most interesting."

  Words. That's all he had to offer her?

  But he had come so far.

  "A friend," she murmured.

  "I am indeed your friend.
I see you are barbaroness now. I am sorry that your father passed but am glad you are in charge. Your love for your people will guide you." He tilted his head and removed his cap, this one white, not green. "Perhaps a new age of barbarians will dawn under your rule."

  She snorted. "When there is no way for barbarians to reproduce due to our limited numbers..."

  "I do not understand." He scratched his head before putting on his cap.

  Ivy sighed and recounted the tale yet again, including the "help" of the elf who dictated whom she should marry.

  "Oh, that is not surprising."

  "What do you know?" she growled.

  "The elves are trying to influence changes with every race, even the humans. I was sent on a mission to kill the opposition's duke, but when I fought him, I realized he wasn't even there."

  "An apparition?"

  "I believe so." He crossed his arms. For a human, he had some bulk on him, although much smaller than any barbarian, male or female.

  "So even the humans," she mused. How far had the elves extended their influence?

  "I can only assume the dwarves too," Prince Walter continued. "And one of their goals is the extinction of the barbarians, goliaths, and trolls. By any means necessary."

  "They wanted the war." She squeezed her fingers into tight fists, released, and squeezed again. Lukor rushing over to the Land of the Skulls had been exactly what the elves had wanted. For the fledging races to kill each other off would certainly make things easier for the elves.

  The prince nodded. "Now comes the part I just learned. Only the highest members of nobility are privy to this information."

  Oh, so that was why he had come by himself. He was sharing classified information and did not have permission to do so.

  "Eons ago, once the elder races had settled in their present locations on the earth, an elder council had been formed. At the first meeting, the three representatives of the races vowed to never go to war with each other. Ever since, they have met every year or so. According to my father, dwarves have never shown since he was ordained king and started to attend them himself."

  "So there was a meeting recently?" Curse his rambling tongue.

  The general nodded. "King Mason had declined to help them with their venture, and that could be the only reason why they are interfering with us. We do not have the manpower to offer help to the elves or the desire frankly. The king did not tell me what exactly the elves wanted us to do nor why."

  "So bold." Ivy rubbed her hand over her face.

  "That they want you alive is quite strange."

  "Indeed, if they do truly wish for the end of my race." She eyed him curiously. "You said you were only just told about the meetings now. Why? And how were you able to get away to tell me?"

  "I am now next in line to be king." He lowered his head."

  "I am so sorry for the loss of your brother."

  Walter's throat muscles worked. "As am I. We had to transport my father and used two decoy vehicles. One contained my brother."

  "And Mason allowed you to leave when your kingdom is in such turmoil?"

  "Despite what my father thinks, I am still my own person. Besides, I told him of my plan and he agreed I should go. The elves have no right concerning themselves with our lives. If they wish for the barbarians to die out, we humans are not sure that is what we also want."

  A rush of hope seized Ivy's heart and squeezed out a ragged breath. If the humans were on their side, perhaps not all was lost concerning the barbarian race after all. True, the blood would be heavier on the human side than split between elven and human, but, after all, that might be the case in the blood running through her own veins.

  "What are the humans' plans now?"

  "Luckily, allies and enemies alike witnessed the imposter duke, and the two sides are now healing. Obviously it will take a long time before everything is sorted and even remotely peaceful, but it is amazing how much a common enemy can bond a people. We plan on seeking out the elves. From that meeting, who can say what will happen?"

  Go after the elves and have them be the race that is extinguished. A large part of Ivy embraced that notion. A smaller sliver sympathized with the elves. Even with the trolls, she had a feeling some were not evil. A race as a whole could not be... correct? After all, she had fallen for a goliath. And she did not consider herself evil despite the various atrocities she had committed over the years. Not even the trolls deserved to be massacred.

  Why had she not realized this before Lukor and his goliaths left?

  Because you do want the trolls destroyed.

  For many years previously, Ivy had assumed her mother's death was the reason why the barbaron had become so obsessed with fighting and battles. More recently, she had begun to suspect the trolls. Now, she questioned if the elves had tampered with his mind to the point that Bloodlust controlled his actions and guided his weapon arm, tipping the scale and forcing for the fatal showdown.

  Again, she thought of the barbarian children.

  Even trolls have babes. Innocents.

  Ivy shook her head to clear her thoughts. "What would you have us barbarians do?"

  "We need all the allies we can against such a foe as the powerful elves."

  "The dwarves," she murmured.

  "Yes. Seek them out and see if they cannot be persuaded to help our cause."

  "Because splitting up is the best way to keep the barbarian race alive." Ivy rubbed her temple. A headache worse than some of her battle wounds nagged her.

  "Please consider it, Ivy. Your people will one day thank you."

  She had a feeling that would never be the case.

  "What of the goliaths?" she asked.

  Prince Walter had started to turn away. "What of them?"

  "Are you going to share with them this news?"

  He shook his head. "I see no reason to."

  "Why?" she asked slowly, suddenly suspicious. Did he know more than he was letting on? Does he know about me and Lukor?

  "I am not friends with any. Good day, Ivy." Walter saluted her before pivoting about on his heel. Near the edge of her vision, he stood before a tree for a moment before pulling on reins and climbing on a horse. He soon left her field of sight.

  'Twas time for another talk with the barbarians. Whether they all left or only some of them, who would go and who would stay, would not rest solely on her shoulders. She had to earn their trust and what better way than to incorporate their opinion as much as she could?

  Not that barbarians were the most reasonable of people.

  As most of the goliaths and goliathas now slept, Lukor made his way back to his tent. Inside, beside his grassy bed laid the weapons they'd scavenged from the field. Long ago, when the goliaths had first realized that touching trollish weapons meant sickness or death, those among them with healing arts laid enchantments upon each goliaths' and goliathas' hand days after their birth so that no harm would come to them. 'Twas a pity no healer had enough power to ensure protection over the entirety of one's body, and so they still had to wear armor.

  Each hilt Lukor held in his hand, but he felt nothing besides ordinary blades, nothing to suggest they were magicked.

  "Perhaps they need to take flesh to enact their destruction," he muttered.

  Leaving the weapons behind save for his personal dagger, Lukor ventured away from the camp, allowing starlight to guide him. The farther he walked away, the more he could see and hear the creatures of the night: rustling in the tree branches, crinkling in the underbrush, munching.

  A bush to his right rattled. Holding his breath, Lukor waited and soon was rewarded when a baby bear-dog darted toward him. Lukor lunged and wrestled the cub into submission. Carrying it by its paws, Lukor returned to his tent. He shoved a large piece of fruit into its mouth to silence its grunts and squeals. Still holding the beast down, he secured a piece of rope and brought the animal back outside where he tied it to a nearby tree.

  One by one, he touched the tip of each weapon to the bear-d
og. The animal struggled against its bindings, but none of the blades instantly killed it, not even the few elvish ones from the pile.

  With a sigh, he freed the bear-dog. The animal snorted at him before darting off, as if annoyed it had been detained.

  Had the elves magicked the blades so they only worked against people? Or only against goliaths and barbarians? Somehow, he doubted that was the case, but perhaps all of the "lesser" races could be smited by them.

  The countless trips back and forth from his camp to the tree after the long hours of marching made his legs feel like jelly, and he stumbled back to his tent. Slumber greeted him immediately.

  As soon as his eyelid closed, he saw her. Ivy. She looked different, and it took him a moment to recognize the expression on her face — one of hope and peace. 'Twas a look he had never seen etched across her features before, and he would do anything he could to make it happen when next he saw her.

  Something knocked into his boots, and Lukor sat up, dagger in his hand, arm raised, ready to strike.

  "Easy." Golic shook his head and backed out of Lukor's tent.

  Sunlight eased into the tent, and he groaned. He hadn't slept long enough. His dreams of Ivy were far better than his actuality.

  More than half of the makeshift tents were already down and attached to their owners' backs. Only they were lining up more toward Ordisium than in the direction of the Land of the Skulls. And, no surprise, Karrina stood at the front.

  Unwilling to give into her games yet wishing to put an end to all the negativity against him, Lukor stalked to the middle of the goliathic encampment and clapped his hands three times. Once he was certain every goliath and goliatha was looking at him, he said, "I know I am asking a great deal of you to come with me to fight yet another battle. I am asking for your trust. A trust I do not yet have. So I ask you all, what can I do to earn your trust and your respect?"

  No one stirred. A wind rustled through the clearing, and Lukor wished it could pick him up and fly him far away from here. Not that he didn't want to be with his people. He did. But only if they wanted him as their golock.

  A goliatha stepped forward. Slightly older, both shades of green on the lighter side, her skin worn, Gremma was a goliatha Lukor trusted and one whose voice he had listened to many a time when he was younger. Her wisdom had made her an advisor to many golocks and golempresses. He could not have asked for a better goliatha to speak, considering Golic and Darcia both were too close to him for the others to listen to.