Bloodlust (27 page)

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?

"About one hundred," he reported. At least he sounded a little remorseful.

One hundred. Compared to the two thousand there had been before this sun had dawned.

"Ivy, do you have any more of that healing draught?" Had he drunken too much of it?

"A... a drop."

Careful not to move her, he eased the vial out of her leather satchel. Only one wretched drop remained. Although it was not enough to do anything, he still forced her to drink it.

She looked no different, the pain still visible in the few lines on her forehead, despair altering the color of her eyes.

Desperate now, Lukor made eye contact with Grendel, the first goliath healer he saw. The hatred in the goliath's features diminished his hope. "Come now."

Grendel took a step back. "Do not command me too," he mouthed.

At least he had the decency to not overtly show disdain toward his golock.

The healer turned his back and stalked away. 'Twas possible Grendel would not be able to heal anyhow, and so Lukor did not have him stopped.

With a deep breath, Ivy lifted her head, stubborn pride set in her jaw. "Bring me into the fortress. I'll die there."

"Moving you will kill you before you reach the drawbridge." No one was more stubborn than he.

The goliaths nearby parted, most glowering at Lukor. He didn't care what they thought. Love was not a crime.

An elf approached through the opening, a thick green cloak lined with an ornate silver pattern billowing behind him. He gazed at Darcia until she stepped away. All of the goliaths were now out of hearing range, if they kept their voices low.

"You love her," the elf said simply.

Lukor bared his teeth. He had wanted to whisper that to Ivy before she breathed her last. To give her such news now might make her passing more difficult for both of them.

Ivy stared up at him. Lukor kissed her forehead then her lips, only a quick one. Her breathing was labored, her lips almost matching her eyes in color.

"I do love you," he admitted

"I know." Her purple lips twisted into a smile despite the pain in her eyes. "I love... you. I'm..."

"Shh." He kissed the top of her head.

"The end of the barbarian era is at hand," the elf cut in.

Ivy lowered her gaze to the ground. "All of this was for naught?"

"Some things are written in the stars. The time for the barbarians to pass on is now. Or might be."

Lukor growled. "Stop talking in riddles."

"Give me respect."

"You can heal me," Ivy said, her voice weaker with each word that passed her lips. "What is it... you want..."

"If you two truly love each other and choose each other to be your lifelong mate, I will heal her."

Lukor met Ivy's gaze. The mixing of the fledging races had never been done before. Already his goliaths were ready to reject his rule. If he mated with a barbarian, the goliaths and goliathas might kill him out of spite.

But he would do it. If she wanted him.

Ivy's lips curled into a smile as she gazed at him, but she frowned at the elf. "Why do I feel like this is a trap?"

The elf spread out his hands in a defenseless manner. "You have only minutes to decide."

"She can last much longer—"

"I will kill her myself," the elf cut off Lukor's indignant outcry. "Well?"

Lukor gestured threateningly toward the elf before kneeling beside Ivy. "You know what this will mean."

"Of course. I'm dying... not stupid. He's hiding... something."

"Without a doubt. But this..." He held her hand to his chest. His heart raced at their nearness, at the idea of losing her, at the hope of gaining her for the rest of his life. "Can this be wrong?"

Ivy closed her eyes, and two tears descended from her right eye. "One hundred barbarians. How can that not be enough for the race to be able to start anew?" She jerked slightly and gasped as the hellebarde shifted. "The hundred are all—"

"All males." The elf nodded. "Have you made your choice, Barbaroness Ivy?"

"Either choice I make dooms my race! The barbarians will die out if I mate with anyone other than a barbarian."

"Unless an elf and a human were to mate again," Lukor mouthed, his back to the elf so his lips could not be read.

Ivy nodded. "How can you ask me to make such a choice?"

Wicked smart of her to continue her outrage. It seemed to give her more energy, but now her fingers were turning blue as well and her skin grew clammy and far too cold.

The elf stepped forward, and with a single finger prodded Lukor away. "No elf will ever mate with someone outside of their race. To do so would damper our attempt to rebuild our species."

"Either I live and watch the barbarians die out when the last of us fall or I die now and the outcome remains the same." Despair colored her voice even as her body changed from sunkissed to an almost non-color with a hint of blue.

"Thirty seconds." The elf towered over her sunken form.