Bloodlust (24 page)

"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. "Why 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.

He bared his teeth at the thought. His arms felt empty without her in them.

But he was Golock. He had no time for such foolishness. Now was the time for battle.

Half of the goliaths fought behind him, already engaging the trolls. He had not meant to give the motion for the attack already, but seeing Ivy surrounded by trolls had thrust him into action. Had she needed his aid? Of course not. She was as fierce as she was beautiful, if not more so.

The other contingency of goliaths should have reached their mark by now anyhow. They had split up, with Golic leading the second group to the other side of the barbarian stone fortress to try to trap the trolls, pinning them with enemies on either side. It was a desperate gamble, and Lukor knew well that many barbarians would die defending their fortress. Who knew if it would be possible to draw the trolls away by any means now the battle had begun?

A badly charred tree caught Lukor's attention, and he climbed it to scan the battlefield. Ivy danced as she attacked, moving lithely, her slender body twisting and bending as her arms thrust and sliced. The trolls didn't know who to focus their attack — the onslaught of goliaths or the barbarian-princess — and Ivy eased ever closer to her fortress.

A monstrous bird, almost as large as a dragon, flew by with a nasty caw. A figure leapt off its back and landed on the leftmost turret. Even from across the distance, Lukor had a feeling the man was none other than Barbaron Thunhall.

But where was the troll ruler? It should not be hard to see his skull headpiece from up here. The drawbridge to Barbadia Fortress remained shut so chances were the skuleader was not within its stone walls. Perhaps he fought on the other side of the fortress.

No, there he was, swinging his club to create a path, heading straight toward Ivy. With dogged determination, she pressed on toward her fortress without seeming to notice the terror to her left.

Lukor jumped off the tree branch and shoved the strap of the shield onto his feet, so the spike drove into the back of the troll he landed on. He yanked it free and forced trolls to the side. One raised his javelin toward Lukor, saw his face, and turned away to attack someone else instead.

"Trakil!" Lukor bellowed.

The skuleader paused. The trolls between them parted as if two giant hands had shoved them aside. With deliberate slowness, the skuleader pivoted toward Lukor. The skull cap covered his hair and most of his face, ending above his lips. His skin was brown, similar to every other troll. His eyes were whiter than the skull. Every piece of armor on his body consisted of bones. Even their bastion in their homeland was constructed with bones at the base. The bones of their enemies.

"You here." Trakil's voice was low, grunting, almost animalistic. He beat his hand to his chest, his fist thumping against the cloth that bore the troll crest: a skull surrounded by dead roses. "Why you strike down my trolls?"

Lukor didn't know the answer himself. The treaty between himself and Ivy was just that — for her and not the rest of her people. Once she realized that, she would most likely try to kill him.

He could not think of her. Not now.

"We coulda taken over the world together. Trolls and goliaths."

Lukor tapped his axe against the forehead of the skull resting on top of Skuleader Trakil's head — the biggest insult one could give the leader of the trolls.

Trolls roared, jeering, and several rushed forward until Trakil waved them back.

"He mine," Trakil growled, his words scarcely recognizable.

The double spear jabbed at Lukor's side, faster than Lukor could bring up the shield. His axe swung down, but the spear was already by Trakil again. The troll twirled it around, spinning it with one hand above his head. He threw it at Lukor.

His axe chopped half of the top portion off, but Trakil had already accepted a misericorde from another troll, a long thin blade strong enough and small enough to pierce through any armor.

Lukor shoved the spike of his shield forward. Trakil jumped to the side and brought the tip of the misericorde to Lukor's shoulder. Before the blade could pierce his skin, Lukor pivoted, swinging his axe. The blade nicked the skull on Trakil's head, and sparks flew.

Trakil's growl sounded like a lion's. Lukor's resembled a war hog's.

A misericorde from the left sliced off the spike on Lukor's shield. Lukor dropped the shield, picked up the spike, and on one knee, threw it. The spike buried itself into the chest of the troll who had dared to enter their fray.

Have they no honor?

Trakil's howl of anger did not drown out Lukor's long and loud war hog cries. The skuleader now had a voulge in addition to his misericorde. The harsh cutting blade of the voulge easily hacked off the armored cuff on Lukor's wrist, the edge splitting his skin superficially.

Two quick flicks of Lukor' arm had his axe chopping off the razor sharp tip of the misericorde. He dropped to the ground to avoid the voulge. His left hand landed on the misericorde tip. Despite the pain, Lukor grabbed it and jumped to his feet.

The voulge pierced his right shoulder through his armor, but the tip of the misericorde eased between Trakil's head and the skull bone cap. The skull flipped off, tumbling to the ground. Lukor stomped on it and shoved the tip through Trakil's forehead.

The skuleader tried to remove the voulge from Lukor's shoulder to strike him again. Blood trickled from around the misericorde and dripped into Trakil's eyes. He staggered backward, his hand falling from his weapon.

It took great strength for Lukor to yank out the voulge. He sliced Trakil's throat. Blood rained as Trakil sank to his knees and lay on the mud. Dead.

The trolls surrounding Lukor rushed him, far too many for him to handle.

But he had done his part. He crawled on the ground as blades struck each other, trying to carve into him. With the voulge, he decapitated Trakil's head. He flung the head into the air and waited for death.

The scent of blood hung heavy in the air. Combined with the cries and thudding of heartbeats and Ivy's struggle to remain in control nearly lapsed many times. But she had to persevere. She had to reach the fortress. Her father would return here, she had no doubt. 'Twas only a matter of time.

It did not escape her notice that the skuleader neared her, and she grinned with satisfaction when Lukor lured him away. He truly wanted the treaty. As did she. No matter the cost.

Her father's reign of Bloodlust had to end, would end, by her hand.

The closer she came to the fortress, the more barbarians she came across. Most were drenched with blood, saliva dripping from their mouths as they fought for their freedom and right to live. Since the drawbridge remained raised, Ivy tucked away her weapons and scale the walls, this time climbing up into the home she had once thought a prison.