Bloodlust (13 page)

"Let us try other ways first."

Lukor insisted they work together to move the boulder, but it would have yawned against their efforts if it could. Next, they secured a tree branch from a hallow beerchcrust tree, whose roots were strong enough to worm through rock. But even the sturdy branch used as a lever snapped, useless.

Finally, even Lukor had to admit she was right. He gripped his axe and rushed her.

She blinked, and nothing happened. During the first battle, her eyes had changed from purple to black, her features twisting into feral madness. Now, her lips quirked, and she sighed. "I don't believe you. You don't want to—"

He slashed his axe toward her head. Her eyes widened — still purple — and she brought up her sword. Lukor funneled his hatred toward her race, allowing the dark emotion to control his arm, picturing another barbarian in her stead, the one who had killed Lucia. Idly, he wondered if the Bloodlust felt like this for barbarians, but her quick arcs and slashes had him occupied, her eyes darker than the blackest of nights.

As she brought back her sword for a striking blow, he darted on top of the boulder. Ivy tore after him. He tossed his axe back toward where they had just stood, and she blinked her black eyes toward the sound. A flash of confusion flicked across her features, and he could read her thought process. Her eyes dimmed, and he let out a war grunt before throwing her shield toward his axe.

Once more, her dark eyes emerged, but this time, she discarded her sword on top of his castoff axe, and she seemed to merely touch the boulder. Lukor almost did not have time to jump off before the boulder barreled its way down the rockside, where it wedged itself between two tall hollow beerchcrust trees.

He rolled to minimize impact, but before he could stand, Ivy leapt onto his back, scraping his face against the rocky mountain. Lukor turned his head to see her fist, and she punched him in the temple. His vision blurred. Desperate to remove her, he thrust his elbow into her midsection. Unfazed, she wrapped her hands around his neck, but having anticipated the move, he'd brought up his arm and easily disengaged her.

She gripped his arm, bending it behind his back. He swept her feet out from under her and climbed higher up the mountain. After several feet, he paused and glanced over his shoulders.

Ivy was sitting down, her back to him, head bent down. When she stayed in this position for a solid five minutes, Lukor dared to approach. She offered him a rock-rat. Her eyes, he was relieved to see, were purple.

As he took the rodent from her, she winced. "I hurt you."

"We both knew you would. I am merely relieved you did not kill me."

"Yet." Her laughter was contagious. This barbarian-princess intrigued him. He respected her, and as such, vowed to indeed make certain her death truly would be both quick and painless.

For, regardless of their growing camaraderie, she remained a barbarian. He must never overlook that fact.

The rock-rat weighed heavily in Ivy's stomach as she followed Lukor into the depths of the cave she'd revealed. Little light sparked from the luminous moss growing on the walls. Perhaps the plants were dying.

She'd striven so hard to remember her mission, to not hurt him, but once the Bloodlust consumed her, all she craved was the death of her enemies. His heartbeat had been a siren song she must destroy. At least in the dim lighting, she no longer had to gaze upon the bruise necklace her fingers had imprinted upon his neck, nor the large bump on the side of his head.

Giving into the Bloodlust was such a powerful temptation for barbarians, and yet, she wished she could never again feel it. To lose her cognizance to mindless battle was not who she wanted to be. But she would never be able to fell as many trolls without it. A problem for which there was no easy solution, if one existed at all.

Deeper into the cave they wandered. The walls had been curved to a perfect smooth surface, and she touched the warm rock. At yet another fork, Lukor halted.

"Don't you remember the way?" she asked, her voice a tad more biting than she'd intended.

"I do." He took a deep breath and leaned against the wall.

Gripping his shoulder, she forced him to sit and removed a small potion she'd bartered with an elf for in exchange for some drops of her blood. Why exactly the elf needed her blood she never did find out. In fact,
he
had sought her out and asked what she wanted to procure in exchange for her lifeforce droplets.

The moss grew more plentifully here, and his eyes reflected the light. "A healing draught?" He shoved it back into her coin purse. "I do not need it."

Most likely he did not, but several barbarians had sustained hits to the head and never woke up again. "I injured you. Let me do this. Let me heal you."

"I only need a moment," he insisted.

So she gave him his "moment," and when he staggered upon standing, she held up the clear bubble jar, the turquoise liquid inside swirling around. "I will force it all down your throat if I must."

He took it from her and swallowed the smallest of sips.

"More," she demanded.

"No. I feel much better. You have repaid me."

Still, Ivy felt her debt had not yet been repaid. This puzzled her. Caring about another was not something barbarians did. Especially not for someone of a different race.

Lukor stood and touched his temple. "My pain is gone. Thank you."

"Do not thank me. I caused that pain." She lifted her nose into the air and tried to look down at him despite his greater height.

"But you did not have to give me some of your draught."

Ivy averted her gaze. His firm fingers tilted her chin up. "Do not touch me." Her voice shook.

He pressed his forehead to hers. For a moment, he closed her eyes. She did likewise, and they stood there for several seconds. When he moved away, she missed his touch.

The goliath already traveled down the left path, and she rushed to follow, careful not to get too close to him. After they rounded a bend, the passageway ended. The ceiling zoomed up toward the tip of the mountain. Huge wide open spaces carved the rock into nothing. The sight of the rooms and many bridges left Ivy breathless. "They truly lived down here for eons."

"Ate plants that needed no light. Grew their own barley and grain for ale. They made do with what resources they had."

"Whyever did they leave?" Ivy snapped out of her reverie and approached Lukor, who crossed a small stone bridge.

"I pray we do not find out. We must move quickly now." The goliath ran, and Ivy pursued.

When they passed into another huge opening, Ivy hesitated. The air here felt strange. Earlier, the air had been warm, moist, almost alive, as if the dwarves had opened the earth to a new life. Here it felt cold and dead.

"Do not dawdle." Lukor's voice lowered, gravelly, urgent, and he grabbed her arm.

"Are we almost there?" Had he brought her to a trap after all? Or perhaps the dwarves had left behind an unpleasant surprise. Mayhap the reason why they'd left in the first place.

A strange sound, like a huge bird bellowing, faintly called out, and Lukor shoved Ivy into a rocky crevice. He wormed his way inside as well, his body against hers. She opened her mouth, but his hand covered it. He shook his head, a finger to his lips.

There was just enough room for Ivy to look out into the opening around Lukor. A huge bird approached, with a barbed tail and a massive wingspan that could not fully extend within the monstrous opening. Not a bird after all.

"Dragon," Ivy breathed.

His large, warm hand covered her mouth once more.

So the dwarves had fled because a dragon forced them out. All dragons tended toward violence first, questions later — if the prey survived their initial attack.

This one glided around the opening, over and under various bridges until stopping beside the first one they'd crossed. It sniffed, following their scent, creeping closer, its twin heads moving up and down on their independent necks.

Ivy's heart sunk. If a dragon lived here, surely no one else did as well. Lukor
had
trapped her.

But why hadn't he fled then?

A small part of Lukor, which he promptly ignored, enjoyed being so close to Ivy. Something within him stirred whenever he touched her. He couldn't wait to return home, once the war was over, and find a goliatha to claim as his own. One who appreciated him for all he had to offer. One who made his blood sing, whose touched burned his flesh. Too ambitious for most goliathas, Lukor did not currently have many admirers, save for the few motivated ones who only liked his status, rather than him.

First, the approaching dragon had to be dealt with. His hand reached for his axe when Ivy gripped his bulging bicep.

"What are you doing?" she hissed.

How quaint. He could almost smell her fear. Truthfully, he felt it too. Kennan had sworn he'd vanquished the beast. That it still belched fire — did that suggest Kennan was dead? If that was the case, Lukor might not have long to live, considering the barbarian princess would certainly kill him where he stood once she learned her interpreter no longer breathed.

Not that she or he had much longer to breathe themselves if they did not destroy it.

"To battle," he whispered calmly.

She eyed the beast before looking at the pit. If the dragon grabbed one of them in its claws, it only had to drop them. The mountain cave bottomed out at seventy feet. "How far until we reach where the interpreter is hiding?"

"You wish to flee a fight? A barbarian running from battle?"

"Running from suicide." She yanked on his tunic, pulling him nearer. The dragon was ever closer but did not seem to have located their position yet.

He nodded toward a bridge twenty feet from here. "Down that bridge, back into the passageways. Not far from there."

Her eyes told all: twenty feet might as well be twenty thousand. They had to cross a small bridge before reaching the one they sought. No way would the dragon miss them.

"Give me back my shield," she demanded, her voice a trifle too loud.

"I think not!"

"Do it." She shoved her silverbow and quiver to him and ripped her shield from him. "Cover me."