Bloodlust

by Nicole Zoltack

  Gremma cleared her throat, a rough grunting sound. "Golock, I do have a suggestion for you."

  Out of the corner of his eyes, Lukor noticed Karrina narrow her eyes and tap her foot, a slight grimace to her lips. Whatever Gremma planned on saying, either Karrina did not agree, or the goliatha knew not.

  Lukor nodded to Gremma. "I am always willing to listen to one as wise as you."

  The older goliatha did not smile but looked older, sadder even. "Such division I have never seen among us goliaths. With all the recent deaths, goliaths killing goliaths..." She shook her lowered head. "We need to find our strength again. We need to be united."

  Uh oh. Lukor did not think he wanted to hear more.

  Gremma continued, "The easiest way to solve that would be a marriage."

  Most goliaths shifted their gaze from Gremma to Karrina.

  Damn.

  The wind picked up, hot, almost stifling. Lukor refused to wipe his brow and clasped his hands behind his back to hide their trembling.

  Varo stood beside Karrina, a smirk on his face.

  The urge to rearrange the goliath's features made Lukor's palm itch. Violence wasn't the answer, he knew. Perhaps words could help. To mention now that he was engaged to a barbarian would lead to his death. Most of the goliaths had their hands near their weapons, and he did not blame them.

  "I have yet to name a goliath or goliatha to the line of succession." Lukor's heart raced. Could he and Ivy have children? Was it possible for their species to breed? If so, he would regret until his dying breath denying his son or daughter the chance to rule the goliaths, but he saw no other choice right now. "If I were to allow you all to pick the goliath or goliatha for me, would that be sufficient in securing your trust and respect?"

  Gremma pursed her lips, increasing the folds around her mouth. She was displeased, but most of the goliaths and goliathas were already making suggestions, eager to nominate their friends or even themselves.

  The din they created was too much for Lukor to be able to hear even a third of the names being shouted out, and he lifted his arms. "How about I suggest names and we go from there?" From the chorus of "ayes" and nods, Lukor added in a rush, "Varo."

  A hush fell over the crowd for a long moment, and Lukor feared he had made a mistake. Shock clearly registered on the named goliath's face. Karrina, beside him, looked pleased, her features softening. Were those tears in her eyes? No, it must have been the reflection of the sun. But she did look happy.

  Good. Perhaps this would mollify both her and the rest of his people.

  Not that he could ever trust her.

  "Do any among you think Varo would one day make a good golock should those in the line before him all die?" Lukor asked again.

  "Aye," Karrina said loudly, stepping forward. "And you have my trust, Golock."

  But not her respect. Duly noted.

  The rest of the goliaths and goliathas murmured their consent, growing louder over time, until a wave of approval rushed over them in shouts and screams. Varo was pushed forward to stand beside Lukor.

  The golock grabbed the future golock's wrist and raised their arms into the air. "I hereby decree that Varo War Nye is now Varo War Nye Uzul. May his reign, should it ever come to pass, be prosperous and peaceful for both him and the goliath race. Huzzah!"

  "Huzzah!" the goliaths and goliathas cheered.

  Only Gremma did not join in.

  "And now, what shall we do?" Lukor held out his arms to encompass all of his people. Giving them the power to choose where they would go was dangerous. They could well choose to return home, to safety, to help bury their many dead.

  In fact, that might truly be their best course of action. So many of their lives' had been forfeited already. Should they go on and fight against a foe who had superior weapons on their side, as well as an ally capable of magic?

  Perhaps their focus should not be on the trolls after all, but the elves.

  "Shall we march on to engage the trolls once more to avenge those already fallen? Shall we return home to bury our dead? Or shall we seek out the elves and determine why they are helping a race that is reckless and dangerous enough without their aid?"

  The murmurings between the goliaths and goliathas grew into bitter arguments, and Lukor stood there, waiting, just as unsure as the rest of his people which course was the best choice.

  A gentle wind teased Ivy's long locks, and she smiled. It felt so good to be outside of the fortress' stone walls, to be out and about, free and wild again. Only she wasn't quite free or wild. She was the barbaroness, and she, along with fifteen barbarians, was on a mission to persuade the dwarves to come out of their darkened world within the earth and to embrace the sunlight and enter the fray.

  'Twas certainly not an easy venture nor an easy task. Ivy had elected to stay at the fortress, to oversee the defense upkeep, but the barbarians had thought it best for her to go, to show their strength and their pledge behind their word by sending their barbaroness.

  If they know I went into the Rocks...

  Nothing could be done about that now. The stone had been split and nothing could make it whole and complete again.

  So she and a small group were off, the rest implementing her plans on the fortress. Filling the moat with poison water would not be easy and would require the most of their time, but perhaps splitting up was the best course. That way, mayhap their foes would think all of the barbarians remained there and no one would notice the band marching toward the Blood Stones.

  Marching wasn't the most accurate word. They were racing across the open Plains of Fire, their feet smoldering from the scorched sand. Within the first mile, their shoes had all been burned to nothing. Ivy felt parched, as if every drop of water had been leeched from her body. When she could see rainbow-colored grass in the near distance, she struggled to increase her speed as the clouds above her head opened up and droplets rained down on them.

  But not water. Acid.

  Ivy closed her eyes and breathed through her nose as she struggled to keep going. Her feet stumbled, but she righted herself without having to touch the hot sand with her hand, and she continued on. The sounds of groans and moaning filled her ears, as did the hiss of the acid touching skin, and she winced.

  Abruptly, grass tickled her feet, a welcome sensation, although the acid still rained on them. Ivy had no choice but to open her eyes now to avoid running into a tree. Soon, the forest she found herself in was thick enough that the branches and leaves protected them all from the acid.

  Helm was right behind her, and the others followed suit. Ivy touched her nose and winced. The skin felt as if it had been melted off.

  Helm clucked with his tongue. He drove his pickaxe into the nearest tree a few times. An orange liquid gushed forth. With his large hands, he captured some and brought it over to the barbaroness. "Rub it on your skin."

  She did as he bade. A cooling sensation crept along her skin, both soothing and healing. Ivy cleansed her body in the sap. "Acidove trees, correct?"

  "Yes." Glaive had already healed himself of his acid wounds and brought over another handful for Ivy to use. "The trees here had no choice but to adapt to the horrific acid rain."

  Ivy laughed. "I, for one, am so glad they did."

  Once the last remnants of the acid had been washed off and their skin healed, although raw and pink, they continued on. The Blood Stones lay to the south, and they would have to contend with salamanders and possible other foes during their trek. They had best cover as much ground as they could, both day and night. Leaving most of the barbarians behind clawed at her like a talon, and she would not rest easy until she saw them again.

  And until she saw Lukor.

  She and the other barbarians did not speak of the goliaths or any of the other races. In truth, they traveled mostly in silence, and if some of the barbarians did speak, it was to each other and never to her. Ivy did not fret. The quiet allowed her mind the chance to roam. What games were the elves playing? Why now?

/>   That first day and far into the night, they met no danger. None of the barbarians showed signs of wear, all in exceptional physical condition — most likely from their elven blood, for humans tended toward laziness. By now, they had crossed out of the forest and entered the desert.

  The heat blanketed over them like a fiery blast, and each step required more effort than normal. Smaller, quicker breaths alleviated the tightness within her chest. On and on they pressed.

  Over the next hill, they descended upon a salamander. A huge, reptilian creature whose body consisted of fire, the salamander flicked its spiked-ball tail at the nearest barbarian. Katar sliced it off, but two more grew in its place, and the fire lining its back blazed higher, sparks flying out toward them.

  Ivy shoved barbarians aside and then darted backward before racing forward, dancing in the air above the salamander, her skirt billowing the air and extinguishing most of its flame. Thus weakened, Helm was able to shove his sword through the normally impenetrable hide and kill it.

  No more salamanders appeared nearby, and Ivy assumed her position at the lead once more.

  Twin moons hung low in the sky, a splattering of stars between and around them, like silver halos. The endless sand landscape stretched before them with no end in sight, slight rises and falls in the distance but no trees or bushes or any sign of life.

  A desolate place, the desert wore them all down, but still Ivy rushed forward until she realized the others had fallen behind.

  Hand on hip, Ivy surveyed them. She could force them to march. After all, they were not anticipating a battle. Of course that did not stop them from arming themselves should things turn unbearably wrong.

  But if they wished to rest, she would not deny them that. These barbarians had volunteered, were perhaps the only ones who could stand her as their barbaroness. She would not press them and risk alienating them.

  "Here seems like a good place to rest," she said as they finally reached her location on top of a larger sand dune.

  Barbarians did not bother with the tent structures the goliaths used. Considering Lukor had not bothered with thin tree branches to prop up cloth material during their trek together, Ivy had almost forgotten the goliaths protected themselves from the weather. Climate conditions and the sun did not faze barbarians, at least not as much as the other races.

  This location looked no different than the rest of the desert, so Ivy lowered herself to the hot sand and closed her eyes, feeling shifts within the sand as the other barbarians situated themselves around her. It was oddly touching that the males spread themselves about her, as if to protect her.

  As if she needed it.

  No, it wasn't touching at all. She was their barbaroness, not a pawn, not a weakling. Did they think her human?

  Ivy jumped to her feet. The barbarian to her left did not stir, but Glaive popped up, the whites of his eyes glowing in the darkness like a savage animal.

  "Is something wrong?"

  She bristled, ready to snap at him, to voice her thoughts and put him, and the lot of them, in their place. But what good would come of that? They would only resent her more. And right now, she needed their support, probably more than they needed her.

  He propped one leg, bent at the knee, his arm wrapped around it, waiting for her to answer.

  "Yes," she murmured, not wishing to disturb the others. Some were already sleeping, evident by their snores. If any wildlife did live within the desert, they would easily find their way to them. And be killed promptly.

  "Do you wish to tell me?"

  She wanted their respect. It wasn't a matter of deserving it but earning it. Whining and complaining would not help.

  "'Tis nothing," she said dismissively.

  Glaive flopped back down with a sigh.

  Ivy chuckled. "I cannot stand how hot the sand is."

  Better he thought she was pampered than that she was keeping more secrets.

  Even Glaive laughed softly at that. "I do not disagree with that."

  When the barbarian seemed to settle, Ivy maneuvered around the rest of the group to the north before sitting. It took her a few tries to wrestle the long slits within her skirt to prevent the stifling sand from touching her bare skin, but she managed. Sleep gradually overtook her.

  All she saw was darkness. Then a small fire. A form visualized nearby, back to her. Slowly, the person turned around.

  Ivy's breathing hitched.

  But he wasn't Lukor. Not a goliath.

  An elf. The same elf who had healed her. Or perhaps the one who had spoken to her within the Spirit Realm.

  "What do you want?" Ivy demanded, but her voice sounded soft instead of the brisk tone she had wanted to use.

  "You have not married the goliath yet."

  "I will. Do not worry. My people already know."

  "And they approve?"

  "You know the answer to that." Still her voice was not her own, too polite and courteous.

  "How did they react?"

  She could feel Steel's hands mauling her body. Ivy tried to brush the sensation away, but nothing helped.

  "Ah."

  The elf's haughty tone brought her back to this reality, and the sense of hands on her body vanished.

  "Nothing will prevent the wedding. I will not dishonor Lukor. I will not sleep with another, even if it means the barbarians, my people, will die out once we ninety-eight die."

  Truth be told, even if she had not been forced into a pledge with Lukor, she would have been hard pressed to ignore her desire and love for the goliath.

  "You truly do love him." The elf sounded strangely pleased.

  "Why do you care so much about us? What are a barbarian and a goliath to you? Or do you wish for the barbarians to die out? And the goliaths? Why are the elves helping the trolls? Or do you deny the enchantment of some of their blades? Because there is no way the trolls have magic of their own... do they?"

  The elf stood there, unmoved and not impassioned. "You will understand all, I assure you. If you do as you promise. I find it rather... unsettling that you two have not been wed yet." His left arm raised to shoulder height, and he pointed a long, slender finger at her.

  Ivy gasped at the pain bursting within her chest. She struggled to stand, to hide the amount of pain she was enduring, but she collapsed to the grayness of this realm.

  A dream. It's just a dream. Wake up!

  With a start, Ivy jerked to her feet, heaving for breath. The burning air did not alleviate her lungs. The moons still dotted the sky, and she remained sitting there for the rest of the night. Perhaps she and Lukor should have been married immediately, their races be damned. An immediate union would have resulted in their bloodshed, she knew. This separation, although unwelcomed, was necessary.

  Lukor, wherever you are, I hope your road is even, that your friends outnumber your foes, and that you will return to me unharmed and whole and happy.

  The goliaths and goliathas were still unable to reach an agreement. Lukor's impatience grew.

  Karrina slid beside him. "You are rather cunning, aren't you?"

  "I try."

  "I will not stand in your way any longer."

  "You love Varo." As soon as the golock said it, he knew it to be true.

  "I do. And I am quite convinced that the best course of action for the goliaths is for them to be jointly ruled by a goliath and goliatha. When you pass, and may that not be until your time has come, I will be golempress and will be free to marry Varo and have him be golock by my side."

  The light in her eyes reminded him of Ivy. Even so, he could not completely trust the goliatha and watched as she returned to Varo.

  Lukor stood in front of the goliaths alone for only a moment before Gremma approached. "You are displeased," he said.

  "You can only neglect sharing the truth for so long." Her teal eyes narrowed with annoyance, the wrinkles near her eyes deepening within the leathery confines of her face.

  "The truth?"

  "About your impending marr
iage. To the barbarian."

  Lukor crossed his arms so he could not grab her for fear of hurting the older goliatha. "Watch how loudly you speak about such matters."

  "They need to know."

  "They will never understand."

  "So you plan on relinquishing your hold on the goliath people? Cling to your barbarian wife and never return to Ordisium? Never walk through the Garden of Orda again? I know how you enjoy it there."

  The idea of abdicating had crossed his minds several times, but each time, he ignored it. Perhaps unifying the races, bringing them together as allies, was a means for both races to be strong and prosperous. At least the goliaths. Although he did not care for the barbarians as his future wife did, he still aimed to help her any way he could.

  "I am Golock and will be until I die."

  "Or are killed. Tell me, Lukor, are you scared of death? I am not. I have lived my life. I am ready to die. You have so many more years to live yet. And you have found your love. Not many ever experience the love you have."

  He furrowed his brow. "How do you know so much about Ivy and me?"

  "Your faces. I was there," she said simply. "But you owe it to your people to give them a chance to accept the direction you wish to lead us. We are not barbarians. We will not rise up against you."

  "You have more faith than I do."

  "Right now, faith is all we have." Gremma shook her head.

  "You do not wish for me to be golock." Disappointment geared toward himself made him bare his teeth.

  "I do not wish for the goliath before me to be golock, aye. But you do have golock-like qualities within you. You can be the golock we need, if you dare to have faith in yourself." She slinked back into the crowd of boisterous goliaths.

  Faith. Lukor had lost his faith in the world and its races once he found his sister's murdered body. To learn that a barbarian had not killed her, but perhaps a troll, was enough to further shatter his illusions of the world.