Bloodlust (28 page)

Lukor's grip on his axe tightened, his muscles screaming for him to strike down the haughty elf where he stood. But then Ivy would certainly die. The choice was hers alone to make. He did not envy her. Knowing that her race was doomed to fall since her life was at the mercy of an elf could not sit well with her.

In truth, Lukor felt ashamed. Had it not been for him, she never would have tried to stop her Bloodlust by harming herself life-threateningly. Their love had doomed the barbarians.

"Heal me..."

The elf lifted his arms, the draping sleeves of his cloak falling, reaching toward the muddy ground. "Know that if I do this, and you go back on your word, you will immediately perish. The blood in your veins will turn into poison. The last seconds of your life will be quite painful indeed."

Ivy visibly struggled to lift her head. "I will not betray Lukor."

The goliath grinned recklessly. Her promise was to him alone. Not the elf.

"So it shall be." The elf placed his hands on Ivy's temples. The spear tip of the hellebarde eased out of her without the aid of a visible hand. Ivy gasped, and color rushed back to her face. Her eyes burst open, and rays of light shot out. Seemingly without moving, she stood and then floated high up in the air. The rips in her skirt sewed back together, the dents in her armor hammered out, the blood lifting from her body and clothes. Her bruises and various cuts disappeared, but her scars remained.

Gradually, she lowered to the ground. As soon as her feet touched the mud, the elf disappeared.

Lukor rushed forward and embraced her before jerking back. "It's nice to see you not covered in blood." His armor was drenched in blood and he did not want to risk marring her armored dress. So beautiful. So vibrant. Everything about her was so real and true. Strong. Noble. Deadly and yet not without cause. Of all people, a barbarian had won his heart.

"All of this, everything I have done, has been to ensure the survival of my people." Ivy lowered her gaze, her eyelashes casting shadows beneath her eyes.

Lukor clasped her hands within his, their joined hands touching their chests. "We will find a way." He kissed her fingers.

Ivy's slow smile held little hope, but the love in her eyes was all he needed. Work still needed to be done concerning the goliaths and goliathas, the remaining barbarians, and the trolls. Surely they would strike again. Most likely soon.

After her Lukor ordered the goliaths and goliathas to set up camp and tend to the wounded, as well as a sending a contingency group to carry their dead back home, Ivy ushered the remaining barbarians into the mess hall. Most, if not all, were wounded in some fashion. And every one beside her was male.

Ivy held up the arm bracers. Although one would have thought them too large considering how massive a brute of a barbarian the barbaron had been, they fit her rather well.

"I am your barbaroness." Despite not shouting, her voice echoed, carrying throughout the mess hall. "Please, sit."

With grumbles and groans, the barbarians did as she bade, sitting on the long benches throughout the room. Large enough to house every barbarian in the entire kingdom, they took up precious little space within the room, a fact that made Ivy's head throb. For a brief moment, after the elf had healed her, her body had felt stronger than ever. As soon as she allowed her thoughts to turn to her race's tumultuous future, all of the mental anguish and the burden of her barbaroness-ship settled upon her shoulders, and the migraine pulsing within her head would not ease or lessen.

Ivy paced around the room, noting who survived. When she reached Katar, Orchid's brother, Ivy stilled. The thought that her only friend had died only hit her now. She pressed a hand to his shoulder. His blue-green eyes, identical to his sister's, pierced her soul with the level of despair swimming within them. Every barbarian there had that same look about him. True, the trolls might not have won, but the cost of the battle was far greater than she had ever thought possible.

"We are all that remain," Ivy said when she finished walking amongst them, receiving another blow when she realized old Redforth had not survived either. "Ninety-eight."

Katar lowered his head.

Helm stood. "It is not a surprise, O Barbaroness."

"Why not?" Her question was rather sharp. The humans had made no effort to aid them. Although she had figured that would be so, the time she had spent away from the fortress had done little, if nothing, to save them.

Not true. If not for Lukor and his goliaths, we might all have fallen.

"The trolls. They had magic on their side."

How could that be? "Only elves have magic," she protested.

Ivy's breathing slowed. The elves had known all along that she would leave and try to stop the war. For all she knew, the pointy-eared race had planted the idea of wiping out the barbarians in the skuleader's mind in the first place.

Perhaps the barbarians were not the only race the elves were targeting. Maybe the humans were in on it too, and that was why they had not sent aid. And the dwarves. Mayhap the elder races had decided enough was enough and wanted to extinguish the "inferior" races altogether.

Merely speculation at this point.

"Some of their blades were enchanted," Katar said, his fingers tracing along the lines in the stone table. "One swipe, even a nick, was enough to kill a barbarian."

From the sorrow in his voice, Ivy could only assume that had been Orchid's fate.

Ivy had been cut several times by trollish weapons. Luck must have been on her side.

"Barbaron Thunhall? How did he fall?" a barbarian called from the back of the room.

"And the goliaths, why did they help us?" another asked.

"I will speak plainly with you all." Ivy stood tall and regal, her hands clasped in front of her. "Thunhall fell long before he died. His survival meant little to him if he was not experiencing Bloodlust. He had been consumed by it and wished for the destruction of every other race. His actions brought the trolls here."

"We were to go to war with the trolls and goliaths and humans," the barbarian from the back added.

"And the elves and dragons..." Ivy held out her hands. "Can you not clearly see that his course laid our ruin?"

"We're ruined now," yet another barbarian called out. "All of the females have been killed. The children too."

Ivy's heart skipped a beat. The children. She had been so wrapped up with the loss of so many of her people, almost dying, killing the barbaron, and learning he might not be her father that she hadn't even realized until now that the men before her were at least fifteen years old up until about twenty-five. All seasoned warriors with only bitter hatred in their hearts and none of the compassion those children had displayed.

"Why are the goliaths setting up camp?" Katar asked.

As much as she wanted to disregard his question, to be alone with her thoughts and her misery, Ivy could not ignore her friend's brother. "I sought out aid to help us fight Barbaron Thunhall's war. Be glad for them. If not for the goliaths, we all would have perished."

Unable to talk to more, Ivy walked away. Being barbaroness to a broken people was not easy, especially when she had to remain strong in their eyes and all she wanted to do was weep for all who had been lost on this wretched day.

Heavy footsteps approached, and she halted. "Yes?" she called over her shoulder.

"O Barbaroness, the men are wondering..."

If they wanted her to prepare them a meal, she would dump animal blood all over them.

"You need to choose a barbaron. The sooner the better."

Ivy half-turned, unwilling to look at Helm. A tough and loyal warrior he had been, quick to anger but slow to speak. He always had been one to think before talking.

"Without an heir..." he continued.

She would not hear of it and stalked away toward her room. Along the way, she passed the barbaron's massive doors. The sight of the silverly purple hilt and the golden heart infuriated her. The barbaron had had a black heart made of coal. Ambition had been his undoing.

Love had been hers.

She should have killed Lukor. The goliaths would have killed her then.

And the barbarians would have died out with this generation.

She never should have left. But she had a feeling Angar would have asked her to side with him against her father. Had she refused, he would have killed her.

The barbaron had gone quite mad before his death. Perhaps he would have slain her had she stayed.

That night, sleep did not come, not that Ivy expected it to. Instead, she stared out her window, looking down at the scattered flickering lights of many fires dotting the blood-stained battlefield.

She lifted her gaze in the direction of the Rocks of Breakingham. Damnable humans. If not for their insistence on fighting amongst themselves, they might have brought even a few legions. Perhaps more barbarians' lives — especially females — might have been saved.

Goliaths filled the fields. Down below somewhere was Lukor. How could she ever explain to her men she would not be with any of them but with a goliath? For all she knew, the announcement might trigger their Bloodlust and the barbarians would be wiped out in a matter of minutes.

Ivy was a woman of action. Somehow, she would figure out a way to save her people and still be able to keep her promise to the elf.

Her people needed her.

And she needed them.

Far more goliaths and goliathas carried their fallen back to Ordisium than was needed. Every goliath who had witnessed his display of affection toward Ivy save one had volunteered for the duty. Although Lukor feared this was not wise, he allowed them to leave. A hint of dissension right now would cause more problems than he could handle. His hold on the crown was too tremulous.

Agitation seeped out of his skin, and he restlessly wandered throughout the camp. He spoke little but nodded to each woken goliath or goliatha he passed. Most slept. Those who understood herbs were tending to the wounded. Only one performed healing arts. Grendel. His skill was clearly limited. Lukor could not help throwing him a glower when he overheard a mention concerning enchanted blades. Before he could inquire for more details, a hand touched his arm.

In the firelight, he recognized Karrina. For having fought in battle, she looked refreshed, her clothes wrinkled but untorn and unbloodied.

He also saw her frown and the disapproval in her squinted eyes.

"Speak your mind," he offered.

"I heard a rumor... You and the barbarian princess. Is it true?"

"What is it you want, Karrina?" He wasn't in the mood for games. If she posed a threat to him, he would rather have that knowledge now than have to sleep with one eye open for fear of a dagger slicing his throat during the night.

"The trolls have left Barbadia. So should we. This battle, this war, it is not ours to worry about. We should not be losing good goliaths and goliathas to a cause that is not in our best interest."

"Our best interest is whatever I say it is." To any other goliath, Lukor would not speak in such a fashion, but Karrina was no ordinary goliatha.