Bloodlust

by Nicole Zoltack

  How much a person's view of the world could change in a handful of days.

  Down the five flights of stairs into darkness Ivy rushed, a hand against the smooth, polished stone to keep her balance as she took the spiral stairs three at a time. She stumbled to a halt when she reached the bottommost floor.

  The cold dampness of the dungeons greeted her like a swamp. Ivy peered into each cell. Most only contained bones. At last, on the right, she saw a small, huddled figure.

  "You there," she called.

  The form did not stir.

  Ivy grabbed the metal bars. "Are you the goliatha?"

  The form lifted its head, eyes narrowed to slits. "Why? Come to finish the job, have you?" She thrust out her too thin arms, marred with burns and lash marks, bruises and scabs.

  "Things have changed since we last met." Ivy banged her longsword against the lock. When that only served to expel some of her anxious energy, Ivy tried her dagger next. After several minutes, the lock popped open, and she opened the cell.

  The goliatha remained inside. "What devilry is this?"

  "I have... I met..." Her tongue felt too large in her mouth, unable to articulate the words she wanted to say. How exactly could she explain a relationship she herself could not contemplate? "Lukor..."

  The goliath girl burst forward. "Where is he? Have you harmed him?"

  Unbidden, Ivy smiled. "No more than he has harmed me."

  The goliatha took in Ivy's appearance. "That's a lot of blood."

  "Not his. Not mine either." At least, not mostly. In truth, Ivy did feel rather off balance when she walked, but she would be quite fine. "Lukor's outside with other goliaths. They're helping us fight off the trolls."

  "Lukor? Fighting with the barbarians?" The goliatha shook her head. "That doesn't sound like him at all."

  "You know him well?" Ivy had tucked her weapons away, and her hands longed to hold them again, her feet wishing to carry her outside, to the battlefield. But she remained here, talking to the goliatha, wishing to understand the goliath who occupied so much of her thoughts lately. A treaty between barbarians and goliaths. An alliance. She and he could usher in a new era.

  That's when it hit her. Barbaron Thunhall was dead. She had killed him.

  She was Barbarian-Princess Ivy no more, but Barbaroness Ivy, Ruler of the Barbarians.

  Her stomach churned so violently she leaned over and dry heaved.

  "You aren't like yourself. What happened to you?" the goliatha asked, some of her hostility melting into curiosity.

  Ivy started. Was she different? Mayhap. But why? "I can take you to Lukor, but we would have to go through the battle. You might actually be safer here in the fortress."

  "You want me to go back in the cell?" The goliatha's tone could not be filled with more disdain.

  "Of course not. My room would be the perfect place. Or maybe one of the guest rooms. Or..." She eyed the thin form of the goliatha. "The kitchen. You could help yourself to any food there."

  "Why are you doing this?"

  "Come and follow me." Ivy whipped around and rushed up the stairs. "Just answer a question."

  "Go on," the goliatha said slowly.

  "Goliaths and barbarians have never liked each other, but Lukor hates us."

  "You want to know why."

  The goliatha fell silent, and Ivy trudged forward. She wanted to know more about Lukor, the details he had yet to share with her, but perhaps she should be talking to him instead of this goliatha.

  Three flights up and they emerged onto the ground floor. In the back of the fortress sat the kitchen. Ivy's stomach grumbled. A quick meal would help to refuel her body. Aches and pains were settling in, as was stiffness. She needed to stretch before rejoining the battle. And she would need to secure a sign of her father's death so everyone — barbarian, troll, and goliath — would know of the new barbarian leader.

  How exactly the barbarians were going to take the news she didn't know. Didn't have time to worry about that now.

  The goliatha grabbed a piece of salted meat from the counter top. The disarray in the kitchen left Ivy wondering if the trolls advance had gone unnoticed by the barbarians' scouts somehow. It appeared that the chefs had abandoned the kitchen in the middle of preparing a meal.

  She helped herself to a few bites. Delicious salamander meat. Hot and spicy, tender and juicy.

  "Lukor thinks a barbarian killed his sister."

  Ivy eyed the goliatha, who shoved another piece of meat into her mouth. "I know," the barbaroness murmured.

  The goliatha blinked several times, even stepped back. "He told you about Lucia? He loved her so much."

  "You love him too." She could see it in the goliatha's eyes. A strange emotion settled within her stomach.

  "He's — they both are — my cousins."

  "Why does he think a barbarian killed her?"

  "Because she was holding a torn cloth bearing the barbarian emblem."

  Ivy's blood ran cold through her veins. Was his treaty a trap? A means to lure her into a sense of security while he and his people helped slaughter the trolls and then turn on the barbarians?

  Or maybe the treaty was only because Lukor wanted to save his cousin.

  The thought that the treaty was a sham soured her mouth. The doom of the barbarians would be absolute without aid.

  "I don't know if I believe it though," the goliatha continued.

  "Why not?"

  "The cloth itself. It was too perfect. The entire emblem was clearly visible. Like someone wanted it to be seen. They wanted her death to be blamed on the barbarians. At least I think that might be the case. I couldn't bear how sad Lukor was, how angry he had become. He was changing, and not for the better. Lucia would have been ashamed of him. I had to try and find out who killed her and why."

  "That's why you were out and about—"

  "When you found and attacked me, yes." The goliatha moved onto another pile of meat. Bits of food covered her face, animal blood mixing with the dried blood from her wounds. "Recently, he had grown even more unbearable. I had to do something." She shrugged and ripped some meat into pieces. "You care for Lukor too, don't you?"

  Ivy shoved two handfuls of salamander meat into her mouth before retreating to the throne room. Her father had stood several inches taller than her so she settled on removing his royal arm bracers and slapping them onto her forearms. Only the barbaron's or barbaroness's arm bracers bore the crest of Barbadia: the golden heart pierced by a silvery purple hilt of a dagger.

  She had stalled long enough. Turning on her heel, Ivy started toward the door.

  The goliatha stood there.

  "I care about my people," Ivy said.

  "Clearly." Her eyes flicked to the dead barbaron. "He was not a good man."

  Had a barbarian voiced that opinion, Ivy might have been inclined to ignore the slight. But to hear it from a goliatha? Never.

  "He..."

  But she could not defend him, unable to think of one good or decent act he had ever undertaken.

  "Yes," she admitted finally. "He was not a good man."

  "Lukor is." The hint of a warning in the goliatha's voice prickled Ivy.

  "I know."

  "I want to see him." The goliatha placed her hands on her hips, looking determined despite her haggard appearance.

  "I don't think—"

  "I don't care what you think."

  "But the battle—"

  "I don't need your permission. You freed me."

  Damn her logic. "Fine. You're free to get yourself killed."

  The goliatha grinned savagely. "If you want to make a good impression with Lukor, you'll deliver me to him personally. I might even forget your role in my capture."

  Ivy narrowed her eyes. "Lukor will demand to know who found you. He will not stop hounding—"

  "My memory is so hazy." The goliatha brought her hands to the sides of her head. "I was attacked from behind..."

  The barbarian-princess — no, barbaroness — s
hook her head.

  "No, wait, I did see him. I mean her."

  Ivy surprised herself by chuckling. "Stay close by my side. If I tell you to run, you listen to me."

  The goliatha's eyes grew wide. "Bloodlust," she breathed.

  "I'll do my best to not enter it," Ivy promised.

  The goliatha nodded. "I almost believe you. Darcia." She touched her nose and then along the darker shade on her right cheek and her left.

  "Ivy."

  "Barbaroness now, huh?"

  "Let's go." Ivy eased through some quick stretches to loosen and warm up her muscles before grabbing her longsword and the barbaron's hellebarde.

  No room on the ground floor of Barbadia Fortress contained a window, so the two had to climb another flight. The sewing room entrance would make for a perfect opening.

  Ivy rushed over and glanced out. It did not take her long to discern Lukor's location. For now at least, the goliaths were joining the barbarians in fighting back the trolls, but far too many barbarians fought wounded, a surprising number on the ground, not moving.

  Fury seized her at the sight of her dead people. The start of Bloodlust triggered within her, but she suppressed it. She had to uphold her end of the treaty, regardless of Lukor's true intentions.

  From the sewing room entrance, Ivy took a running start and leapt out of the window. The longsword and the hellebarde both plunged into trolls' backs, and she landed on a third. She cleared out a small space and crossed her weapons high above her head before dropping their tips to the ground, the signal for Darcia to jump. Trolls approached, but Ivy held still. If she dared to attack, she might strike Darcia. Only the goliatha did not appear.

  Ivy's muscles twitched and she even took a blow to her shoulder before the damned goliatha landed behind her.

  "Took your time," Ivy grunted as she ended the troll who had wounded her.

  "I'm afraid of heights."

  Ivy laughed. Out of the numerous perils in the world and heights frightened her?

  Lukor was northeast of their position, and Ivy forced her way through the trolls toward the goliaths. The sight of so much green skin alarmed her slightly, the notion that they were now allies too alien to accept. She glanced behind her to see if Darcia kept up and brought up the hellebarde to chop off a troll's hand that dared to grab the goliatha.

  Another's axe descended toward Darcia, and Ivy yanked her forward so forcefully the goliatha's face met the ground. After dispatching the troll, Ivy followed Darcia to the goliaths.

  Instead of praising her, the goliaths took one look at their goliatha before turning on Ivy, weapons raised.

  So this was her thanks for aiding them.

  Should have known better than to trust a goliath. Even Lukor.

  All Ivy saw were angry glowers, snarling lips, and raised weapons. She lifted hers, arms beginning to fatigue slightly from their heavy weight and the constant strain on her muscles.

  The nearest goliath struck first, his spear almost piercing her leg, hitting the lowermost portion of her armored bodice. She didn't want to fight them. Doing so would only ensure the dissolution of the verbal treaty. Ivy couldn't see Lukor from the wall of goliaths descending upon her.

  Darcia was trying to talk to them and even yanked on one's arm, but they didn't listen.

  Should've washed your face after your meal, Darcia. Ivy wasn't about to fall because of a mannerless goliath. If she had to fight to save herself, she would. Wouldn't try to kill, but if it happened, better them than her.

  Ivy dodged the first couple of slashes, but when two weapons pierced her skin within seconds of each other, she couldn't help herself. Bloodlust overwhelmed her beyond reason, and she lashed out. She tried to focus, to maim or only injure, but she couldn't be certain, her vision too hazy for her to tell if she killed or not.

  Another weapon pierced her, and her limited control diminished further. Rage at being attacked drove her arms forward. The hearts beating around her did not lessen, none stopped, unless so many more goliaths were coming to replace the ones she had killed.

  One heartbeat drew her attention more than the others. Familiar. Steady. Vibrant. Humming with life. Her arm came up unbidden. She was going to smite the person or be killed in the process.

  Ivy did the only thing she could do.

  She turned her wrist and brought the weapon down upon herself.

  The goliaths around Lukor had grown increasingly violent, killing at will instead of staying together in formation to minimize their losses and maximize the forfeiture of trolls' lives. He tried to assemble them, to force them back into line when someone called out a familiar name.

  Darcia.

  Lukor had been so focused on fighting and the barbarians and trolls that he had almost, but not quite, forgotten about his cousin. Why was she here? Where?

  So many goliaths barred his path. "Darcia! Darcia!" he called.

  He jumped onto a pile of fallen bodies, and from this vantage point, he watched as Ivy saved Darcia's life. He hardly recognized his cousin. She looked sickly thin and blood covered her face and clothes, bruises spotted her arm, but she held her head up high. Gratified as ever, despite her surroundings.

  Abruptly, a surge of goliaths attacked Ivy. They must think she harmed Darcia. Lukor would not have put that past Ivy... before she had met him. He liked to think she would not commit such an act now.

  His stomach churned as she attacked the goliaths. Not that he could blame her. If she hadn't, she already would have been killed. Still, watching her brutally defend herself against his people had him racing toward her. A goliath missed striking the barbarian-princess and almost hit Darcia.

  A flash of violet from the sun's rays struck his eyes from Ivy's forearms. Her arm bracers had the barbarian emblem blazed into them.

  She had succeeded as well.

  "Halt! Drop your spears." Lukor could curse himself. He'd instructed his warriors not to attack barbarians but had not mentioned the treaty. Of course they would move to defend themselves if they thought a barbarian had tortured one of their own.

  He had to physically restrain a goliath before the others fell into line and moved behind him. Lukor ignored the glowers and muttered curses they flung at both Ivy and him.

  Ivy remained in the throes of Bloodlust. Lukor returned his axe to his side, disarming himself. His only chance was to get her to see he wasn't a threat.

  "Ivy..." he whispered.

  Her arm came down. Darcia screamed. Lukor winced, eyes closing, waiting for the blow. Was he really doing this? Allowing himself to be killed?

  Of course not.

  He brought up his axe, opening his eyes in time to see the spike of Ivy's hellebarde piercing her stomach.

  Her stomach, not his.

  With a gasp, she sank to her knees in the mud, blood leaking from around the weapon still imbedded within her.

  "I... I couldn't st-stop," she said, her voice scarcely audible above the roar of the battle surging around them.

  Lukor knelt beside her, Darcia over his shoulder.

  "She saved me," his cousin said.

  "How did you get captured?" He tried not to think about how deadly Ivy's wound was. If he removed the blade, she would lose too much blood to live more than an hour or two at most. But she couldn't live long with it inside her either.

  Her face was almost as white as bone. "Lukor..." Ivy's eyes flickered to Darcia. "I was the one who found her."

  "You saved her."

  Ivy shook her head once and grimaced. "I was responsible for her imprisonment."

  "She did save me too," Darcia cut in.

  "Did... did I kill... goliaths?" Ivy mumbled. Her head lowered, as if too heavy for her neck to support.

  "Stop talking," he demanded.

  "The trea... treaty..."

  "Damn it, I told you to stop talking."

  "There aren't many barbarians still living for a treaty to be worth anything," a goliath named Thul called out. "You spilt your blood for nothing, barbarian
."

  Lukor grimaced. Yes, many barbarians had fallen. Far more than he would have thought. "Don't listen to him."

  "Lukor... my people... the end..."

  Talking would only make her die that much faster. Before he could contemplate what he was doing, Lukor cupped her face in his large hands, brushing her dark blond hair back. Her purple eyes pierced his soul. So much pain and torment there, not that she would ever voice it, but her eyes told him everything.

  His thumb traced the slope of her nose and teased her lips. A gentle sigh escaped her throat, and the next thing he knew, he was kissing her, lips gently pressing together. She had no markings for him to touch, only the soft skin of her cheeks.

  One of them deepened the kiss. How awkward it was to kiss her while being careful not to jostle her, to be near the weapon stealing her life away, but he dared not stop kissing her. If all he could do was give her some happiness in the last moments of her life, to keep her mind off the destruction of her race, the least he could do was give her the love he could never vocalize.

  Love. Not lust.

  Yes, he, Lukor Dalthu Cagan Ig Lob Tog Yambul Wraog Grukk Uzul, Golock, loved Ivy, Barbaroness of the Barbarians. And from the passion in her kiss, he knew she loved him in return.

  If only love could save the day.

  A hand on Lukor's shoulder had him reluctantly pulling away. "What is it?" he growled, still kneeling in front of Ivy, holding her hands. He had a feeling she would remove the hellebarde if he left her to her own devices. Lukor would not allow her to do that. He couldn't lose her. Not yet.

  Darcia waved her arm toward the north. "The trolls are fleeing."

  Lukor could see through his goliaths that she spoke the truth. They were carrying their fallen skuleader above them. The head remained tethered to his waist.

  "Ivy, do you hear? We won."

  Her head had lowered again, almost like a turtle retreating into its shell. "How many barbarians still live?"

  Lukor met Thul's gaze. The goliath rushed away and returned two blasted minutes later. Couldn't the goliath run faster?