Bloodlust

by Nicole Zoltack

  "Well, if it isn't Barbarian-Princess Ivy. So you do still live."

  Ivy sat still, her back straighter than a sword. With her legs, she forced the tiger to twist around so she could glower at Angar. "What do you want?" She lifted the dagger from the tiger's scar and pointed it at his chest.

  Raindrops from the storm lingered on his eyelashes, bringing out the darkness in his glittering eyes. "Why bother to leave in the first place if you planned on returning?"

  "Why do you care if I come or go?" The tiger shifted uneasily beneath her, and her left hand patted his neck, the dagger in her right hand still pointed at Angar.

  "More stubborn than a pair of dwarves," he muttered. "Stubbornness can get one killed."

  "Is that a warning?"

  The flash of his teeth screamed, "threat."

  "Let me guess. Father sent you to do his dirty work. You're here to kill me."

  "Actually, Ivy..." He took a small step forward. "I never would wish harm upon your head."

  Was he flirting with her? The notion disgusted her. Angar was a true barbarian — ruthless and impossibly cruel. He would make a terrible barbaron.

  "War is coming." He still approached her almost warily.

  "Father's Bloodlust has colored his reason to the point of nonexistence, but why do you wish for war?"

  He stilled mid-stride, several feet from her. "War is inevitable. What I wish for is immaterial."

  Yet his eyes shone with hope.

  For her.

  "You want war," she reiterated slowly. "You want the barbarians to be wiped out."

  Angar nodded. "With me by your side—"

  "You will never be by my side," she snarled.

  "We could repopulate the earth with barbarians. Cultivate and nurture them as they should have been all along."

  "In what way? Blind ignorance and hatred of the other races that will only ensure the utter destruction of our family?" She spat toward him, the saliva landing on his boot.

  Angar withdrew his longsword. "Your mother was as foolish as you are," he hissed, the hope in his eyes melting into raging hatred.

  "Do not speak to me about my mother!" Ivy forced back the rush of Bloodlust threatening to overtake her. She needed to keep her wits about her. "She was as noble as any barbarian could ever hope to be while you are a disgrace—"

  "Your mother was far from noble. She plotted against your father."

  "What are you talking about? Mother would never..." Ivy paused. Would Mother have wanted the throne for herself? The idea did not sit well with her. "How would you even know if she had?"

  "Because she and I had plans together to overthrow her husband, your father."

  Ivy slid off the tiger's back and stalked toward him. "You're lying."

  "Why would I? But then your mother started to back out."

  "You planned the battle that got her killed, didn't you?" Ivy pressed the tip of her dagger against his throat.

  Angar laughed. "You still don't get it. I told your father of your mother's plans when she failed to uphold her end of the deal. Your father killed her himself, while I earned his eternal trust. Eternal for as long as he breathes, that is."

  The allure of the Bloodlust settled over her like the heat of the sun on a stifling day, and Ivy slashed at him with her blade. His sword met her dagger, and their battle began.

  Balog slashed with the morning star and mace, but Lukor dodged and increased the distance between them, circling around his foe, his axe raised.

  "Tell me, Lukor," Balog began. He stood still, his weapons dangling in his hands, seemingly ready to halt the battle. "Why are you fighting me? Because I disgraced your memory of your dear sister? Or do you wish to be golock now I paved the way for you? Do you truly think yourself capable of killing another goliath?"

  In response, Lukor lunged. Balog blocked with his mace and swung the morning star around to clang against Lukor's shoulder. The harsh impact jarred Lukor and set his teeth on edge.

  "I did always fancy your sister, truth be told. I overheard her asking, no begging, you to go along with her. But you had other plans. Couldn't be bothered. So I followed her. Watching. Making sure she was all right. I spied a bush of wilderberries nearby and plucked some, in the hopes of having the courage to reveal my presence to her with a gift of a meal, when I heard her scream. I raced toward her..." Balog shook his lowered head.

  Lukor sensed a trap, but Balog truly appeared lost in his thoughts. The morning star clattered against the ground, the mace held so loosely in his hand that it might fall too. "You were there?" He couldn't believe it.

  "Not in time. Came before you did."

  "You saw him then. Her killer. The—"

  "The troll, yes. I chased after him but couldn't keep up."

  "No. A barbarian killed her," Lukor insisted. "She was holding a piece of their emblem in her hand, had ripped it off his clothes."

  "Or it had been planted there." The corner of Balog's lips twitched in a facsimile of a smile.

  Could Balog be speaking the truth? Had Lukor's hatred of the barbarians been so misplaced?

  Ivy... He had hated her, did what he could to ensure the destruction of her race, had fought against any kind of feelings he might have felt for her after traveling so long together. But now he didn't know what to think. Although he did wish she was here to help keep him cool and levelheaded.

  Perhaps not every barbarian was a truly evil creature after all. The few times he had held her, he had almost forgotten her race. She had only been Ivy, nothing more.

  But the more he thought about it, the more the notion that a troll could have been intelligent enough to plant evidence behind at the crime to point suspicion elsewhere did not seem plausible.

  Balog was mistaken. A barbarian had killed his sister.

  The sound of footsteps pounded against the ground, and the two goliaths turned to face the newcomer.

  Golic bowed toward the golock although his gaze remained fixed on Lukor.

  "What is it?" Lukor asked even though Balog, as golock, should have questioned him first. The greens in Golic's face had almost died away, the light skin as pale as a human, the dark only a hint of lime.

  Golic's gaze swiveled between the two. "We found a group of slaughtered goliaths."

  "Where?" Balog demanded, striding forward, tall and massive, almost impressive in his manner. Too savage, though, to be regal.

  "Who killed them?" Lukor asked. "Who was slain?"

  Golic's shoulders slumped. He explained where and named several good goliaths. Lukor did not miss the narrowing of Balog's eyes with each name nor the way the vein in his neck pulsed, bulging out, throbbing.

  "Who killed them?" Lukor reiterated.

  "The nature of their deaths..."

  "An ambush?" Balog guessed.

  "No. There were only signs of one attacker."

  A barbarian. Only a barbarian could have singlehandedly struck down so many goliaths.

  And the location had not been far from his and Ivy's encampment.

  "When?" Lukor asked around the rock in his throat. His stomach muscles tightened, as did his chest.

  Golic's non-answer and his staring at the floor had Lukor's grip on his shield loosening. It landed on the floor with a clatter.

  Ivy had to have killed them all. Slaughtered them. To think he had wondered if she could be different than the rest of her race. Of course not.

  Balog placed his weapons away. "Have the bodies brought back here. We will have pyres for them. We will not forget them." When Golic lingered, Balog barked, "Go, now! Do as I command."

  Golic's bow was sloppy and as disrespectful as it could be. Without a word, he left the room.

  Lukor squeezed the handle of his axe. He waited until his friend had closed the throne room door to ask, "Why weren't they here? Why were they out in the first place?"

  "Why, scouting." Balog's grin was anything but happy.

  "Scouting for whom?" Lukor swung the axe in a lazy circle, gradually increas
ing his speed until the blade blurred in front of him.

  "To make sure no one was coming nearby. With all the unrest—"

  "Do not give me that. They were looking for me. Don't deny it." Lukor held his breath. Looking for him, yes, but to bring him back home alive? Or in pieces?

  "Yes."

  "They wouldn't have killed me."

  "Oh, I believe they would have. I had promised the one who chopped off your head to be added to the line of succession." Balog shook his head. "You did not kill them. Found a friend, did you? Someone who will help you take me down?"

  Lukor didn't know what to think. That some of his own goliaths had been ready to kill him at Balog's command was unfathomable. Had Ivy known the goliaths were coming for him? Or had she killed them because of her ruthless nature? His mind told him the latter. Regardless, he had to appreciate what she did, as sickening as that notion was.

  "Too tired of shedding goliath blood by your own hand that you had to seek out others to do your heinous work for you?" Lukor taunted.

  "I will enjoy killing you myself." Not bothering to grab his weapons, Balog leapt on top of Lukor, feet landing on Lukor’s chest, forcing the goliath back.

  Lukor slashed with the axe and shoved forward with the shield. Its spike clashed against Balog's armor, scrapping downward. As soon as it reached the weak point, the upper thigh, Lukor shoved it deep within Balog's flesh.

  Balog didn't even wince. His mace and morning star were in his hands, and the fury of their battle began again. The golock planted his feet, not moving, hindered by the shield, blood coating his pants, but his slashes and slices remained harsh and brutal. Lukor parried every blow and strike, each soon forcing Balog to step back to avoid Lukor's axe carving into the skin not covered by armor.

  With a sweep of his weapon, Lukor knocked the morning star out of Balog's hand. The next instance, he shoved his heel into the back of the shield, burrowing the spike even farther. Balog let out a low growl. The mace slammed into Lukor's back. Pain hardly registered as Lukor's axe swung around and chopped into Balog's neck.

  Blood gushed out as soon as Lukor removed his axe.

  The golock fell to his knees. The red lifeforce pooled beneath him, forming a puddle. Balog glanced up at Lukor. Gurgles and grunts emitted, but finally he managed, "You'll never learn... the truth... Lucia's..."

  Balog took one last shaky breath.

  Lukor had slain him.

  Lukor was now golock.

  His first act? Prepare for war.

  Clang, slash, spark, hiss, snarl. The sounds of the battle, the smell, the excitement all prevailed within Ivy. She welcomed them, embraced them, but refrained from giving into her Bloodlust. She wanted to remember Angar's death.

  "Vile betrayer." She scarcely breathed heavy despite their fighting for a good hour now.

  "Your mother betrayed me." His eyes glittered darkly, and his longsword snaked toward her.

  The black tiger had raced off shortly after Ivy had dismounted. How she wished she had kept the beast around. Death by mauling would suit Angar well. At first, she had strained to hear its roar, but now the only sound she concentrated on was the beating of Angar's heart. Soon, it would pump blood no more. She would see to it.

  "You would have had my mother go against her husband. Her barbaron."

  "She had come to me first."

  "Never." Ivy darted backward and threw her dagger.

  Angar knocked it away with his blade.

  She raced forward to reclaim it, leaning backward so her back was parallel to the ground, the blade of his longsword sweeping an inch above her. Her fingers curled around the hilt, and she exploded upward, launching toward him, too fast for him to bring around the sword again. Her dagger, unfortunately, only scrapped against his cheek, enough to cut him but not severely wound him. This had been the first blood to be shed though, the closest she had dared come to him, for his reach with his longer sword far exceeded her range with her puny dagger.

  His fingers touched his wound. "To be the ruler of the barbarians, one has to be willing to kill whoever stands in their way to the throne. Your mother wasn't ready to take it for herself. She was too weak. Allowed your father to do as he wished. He knew what he wanted. He ruled with an iron fist and still does. Your fist is not iron."

  "No," Ivy agreed. "It's not iron."

  She feigned throwing the dagger again, and he bought it, bringing his longsword over. With the hilt of her weapon, she knocked the sword out of his hand. Her foot pressed the helve into the ground. Her dagger carved into his stomach before he could blink.

  Ivy yanked her dagger back out and shoved her hand into the wound, reaching up under his ribcage. "My fist is in you."

  Her hand found its way to his heart, and she squeezed the organ. Angar's eyes grew wide, his face blue. Strange that he didn't fight or struggle against her. He accepted his defeat almost graciously.

  "Maybe... you do... have... takes... barbaroness..." he breathed.

  Ivy removed her hand from his inside his body, still holding his heart. Angar collapsed.

  Her hand trembled as she tipped it over, the heart falling on top of his form. Blood coated her arm up to her elbow.

  "Barbarian-Princess Ivy."

  She stilled before sweeping around to face her father.

  "What have you done?"

  "I killed someone who would have killed me if given the chance." She held her chin high, staring her father in the eye.

  Such coldness. No love. Only hate. She felt no love for him either. Her mother was dead because of him. By his own hand. He had fed her and her kingdom lies over the years, praising their barbaroness for her bravery. Not in battle had she fallen. At least, not in battle with their enemies. Instead, one of their own had slaughtered her because she had been too weak to do it first herself. The curse of barbarians. To be ruled by the darkest of emotions.

  Which begged the question: what had changed her mother's mind? Could it be that deep inside she had loved her husband? Compassion, love, and the like were alien emotions to Ivy. Her father certainly never experienced them.

  "You have killed a fellow barbarian." Her father's voice was frosty and unimpassioned.

  "I have."

  "You will pay the price for your crime."

  Ivy refused to show any emotion — not shock or aggravation or even disdain — although she felt them strong, boiling within her. Since when was fighting a member of royal barbarian blood not a crime? Since when was defending her life a crime?

  "I hereby sentence you, Barbarian-Princess Ivy, to death."

  Golock. Lukor had not expected the mantle to feel so empty, not that he had time to feel let alone think. After guards removed Balog's body and servants washed away the blood and signs of battle from the floor, Lukor invited every goliath of every age to join him at the tree garden. There, he addressed them, his voice clear and strong, forceful even.

  "Good day to you all." He looked about the assembly. Some of the goliath younglings sat beside the bushes. There wasn't enough floor space for all of the adults, and more than a few climbed the trees to sit on branches.

  He made a point of catching the eye of Karrina, the goliatha who would be golempress next. Her hands were visible, as was the empty belt around her waist. She hadn't brought a weapon. Lukor hadn't either. He had enough fighting with his own people.

  "I stand before you as your new golock," he continued. "I am sorry I left for some time and was not here to put an end to the destructive ways that some in the line of succession has sought. What we goliaths need is stability."

  The goliaths and goliathas grunted in agreement.

  "But stability within our race is not enough. The tide is changing. War has come. The trolls and barbarians are meeting on the battlefield. I am certain that some among you wish for us to remain outsiders to the conflict, but I ask you, would not the world be a safer place for us and for future generations should both the barbarians and the trolls fall? I say we help the trolls wipe out the
barbarians, and then when that victory is accomplished, we turn on the trolls and smite them."

  He paused and glanced about to take in the crowd's reaction, turning to see those behind him. Hushed whispers broke out, punctuated by shouts, some cheers, and a few jeers. When his gaze fell on Karrina, she stepped forward and gave him a perfect bow.

  "If I may?" she asked.

  Lukor nodded.

  "The barbarians will overrun the trolls if the trolls have no aid. However, this barbaron of theirs, Barbaron Thunhall, is vicious and cruel and has become increasingly more so over the last few months. If the trolls fall and the barbarians should look to seize dominance over the entire world, surely they would seek to oppose us first." Karrina bowed again and returned to her position in the crowd.

  The murmuring grew louder, and Lukor allowed his goliaths to converse and reason for themselves. Finally, a chant started, low at first but building into a roar: "War! War! War!"

  Lukor grinned, baring his tusks. "Tonight we feast. Tomorrow we march."

  Still the goliaths and goliathas cried, "War! War! War!"

  Twenty feet separated daughter and father. Neither moved, a wordless battle commencing.

  If he thinks I'll go willingly...

  Ivy bent down and retrieved her dagger and Angar's longsword.

  Her father stood there, dressed in full armor but weaponless, a formidable foe. He beckoned her forward. "Come. Let us go."

  "No."

  Her father had half-turned to leave, but he pivoted back. "Excuse me?"

  "I reject your rule. I reject your sentence. I reject your sense of righteousness and honor." She held up the longsword, so the tip covered half her vision. "But most of all, I reject you."

  Her father hissed. "I do not have time for such folly. Would you rather be killed here, away from the prying eyes of the people who care not for you? If so, say the word and it shall be done."

  Could she do it? Do what her mother couldn't? Attack the man standing before? Kill her father?

  Ivy held out her arm so the longsword pointed at her father's chest.

  "You dare to threaten—"