Bloodlust (42 page)

"I had to."

She glanced away, staring at the waters. With each minute that passed, the water level rose slightly. Soon, it would be up to their hips.

The goliaths and barbarians were actually mingling, somewhat, and the scent of blood did not fill the air, so mayhap strides were being made.

Most likely not. Give them enough time, and they'd start attacking each other.

Ivy's hand went to the hilt of her sword at her hip.

"Anxious? Worried?"

"I do not fear death." Her voice was low, her words carrying a ring of truth.

"But the elves..."

She rotated her head to look at him. His chest ached to see tears in her eyes. A blink and the tears disappeared, and he wondered if he saw them after all.

"An elf spoke to me." Ivy fiddled with the hilt of her sword. "In the Spirit Realm. Foretold the end of..." She glanced behind them. Their people were far enough away, talking too loudly to overhear them. "The end of the barbarian race."

"No." Lukor grabbed her bare elbow, below her armored shoulder and above her arm bracer. "I will not allow that to happen. Not to your people. Not to you."

"That's just it. What if my bringing them here ensures their deaths? What if I am playing into the prophecy?"

"You aren't worried for yourself."

"Because the elf also spoke of a new race."

The words repeated in his mind, and at first, he could not contemplate what she meant. When realization dawned, hope surged in his chest. "You mean we..."

She nodded. "I assume so. We can start a new race. But if the only way for that to happen is for the barbarians to die... I cannot allow that to happen. The elf who healed me looked exactly like the one who prophesized to me. I think he will ensure we live and survive, if only to reproduce."

"If we succeed and kill off all the elves, the chances of finding a way for the barbarian race to continue on are halved. But there still is hope." He could not bear seeing her so saddened.

"If a human could find love with one of them, not all hope is lost."

The cane in Lukor's hand grew warm. "They're here."

He whirled around to see the barbarians and goliaths had parted, no longer mixed, with trolls approaching through the opening. The skuleader stopped in front of Lukor.

"See you good deal."

"Yes. I keep my word." Lukor winced inwardly. Perhaps war wasn't the answer. Could the trolls be trusted once the treacherous elves were destroyed? Strange, he had wanted the destruction of the barbarians for so long because he had erroneously believed one had murdered his sister. Now he'd been told a troll had, but he found it hard to believe that one of their race was capable of engineering tampered evidence.

No. He would not be surprised if the actual murderer had been Balog himself.

Still, the possibility remained that a troll had killed her. Even so, the anger and rage he had survived on for so long had dissipated.

Ivy's fingers touched the back of his palm, and he wondered if she would agree to his thoughts. She so wanted her people to live. Would she extend that to another race, even one as dangerous as the trolls? Revenge had to be a far stronger emotion for barbarians to handle and overcome than anyone else.

The skuleader was already wading through Luna Ford. Ivy clasped Lukor's hand, and the two crossed together. By the time they stepped onto the other bank, the water was waist-high. Despite the hordes of their combined armies, the trolls and goliaths and barbarians all crossed, the last few submerged up to their chins.

The roar of Rustic Falls from the east filled Lukor's ears. Then the sound slowly faded away, and he heard the rustling of clothing, the whisper of blades being unsheathed. Twenty yards in front of them stood Celestia Forest, the elves' homeland.

All of them, thousands, stood silent, ready, willing, waiting. The three leaders held still at the front. Ivy, true to her word, did not look the least bit frightened. When she had spoken to him, he had read in her eyes that the thought had crossed her mind that the elf who had healed her might kill her out of spite for what they planned this night. But she did not care. She die before following the whims of another. That was why she killed her father. It would also make their vow, once they did pledge their lives to one another, all the sweeter, for she, and no one else, not that elf, deciding her fate.

Regardless of the outcome of the battle, Ivy had to live. The last female barbarian.

The skuleader took a large step forward.

A brilliant light shot out from within the forest, straight into the air, casting such a shine on their surroundings 'twas as if the sun had turned white and appeared in the nighttime sky.

Lukor gripped his axe and his falchion and moved to stand beside the skuleader again.

Ivy only held her sword in one hand, the other empty, as she stood between the two males.

As if the entire world held its breath, the roar of the waters ceased and the insects and other nocturnal animals halted. An arrow flew out of the trees. Ivy plucked it out of the air and dropped it onto her blade, slicing it in half.

"We are here," she said, not bothering to raise her voice.

"Come and get us," Lukor finished.

With a savage scream, the skuleader rushed toward the entrance of Celestia Woods. Two trees several feet apart arched to form a natural doorway, flowers blooming at the top. Elves appeared on either side, throwing daggers and blades, even petals and plants. Trolls, goliaths, and barbarians all rushed forward. A pink flower landed on a troll's chest armor. The bone melted away, and the troll shrieked as if burned.

In the heat of the battle, Lukor lost sight of Ivy, but his thoughts, and his heart, remained with her. He parried and sliced and ducked beneath blades of both his foes' and his allies' for the quarters of the forest were so tight that the chances of accidental attacks were most likely not uncommon.

A jolt on his back jarred his body, and Lukor whirled around. An elf had slammed a mace into his back. Had to have left a nasty dent in his armor. As he turned to face his foe, Lukor brought up his axe and the blade sank deeply into the elf's torso. The smell of bile and blood filled the air. The elf staggered and dropped to the ground.

Lukor had to tuck away his falchion and use both hands to retrieve his axe. Before he had succeeded, a twig snapped behind him. He whipped out his falchion and threw it, reacting before thought. What if he had thrown his weapon at an ally?

But he hadn't. The curved blade chopped the elf's thick wooden bow nearly in half, but the arrow had already been loosed. Lukor rolled to the side, but the arrow nicked his leg. A scarlet ribbon of blood flowed from the wound. Despite a twinge of pain, Lukor scrambled to his feet, freed his axe, and tore after the elf, who had dropped the ruined bow, falchion still embedded within it, and was running deeper into the forest.

Pausing to grab the falchion and bow, Lukor gave chase. He banged his hand against a massive tree hard enough that the bow loosened and fell. With a burst of speed, Lukor shoved the elf into a tree trunk. He placed the double-bladed axe onto his own back and held the elf by his neck.

"Don't like having others decide your fate, do you?" He snarled.

The elf closed his pale red eyes, and Lukor twisted his neck. Dead, the elf collapsed at his feet.

The golock glanced around him. The clanging of weapons clashing, the screams and cries of the fallen came from every direction. Up ahead, to the east, a clearing caught his eye, and Lukor armed himself before approaching it, trying to still his breathing, listening for any signs of friend or foe.

He found both there.

Ivy ran as hard and as fast as the others to engage the elves in battle and took out two with ease — her sword rammed through one and another she kicked onto the waiting hellebarde of Katar. She was pleased to see the barbarians spread out, not many fighting in pairs, lessening the chances of maiming or killing another of their race should they enter the Bloodlust. Even she was having a hard time fighting against the urge — the sounds, the smells, the allure of the battle tantalizing her, fueling her body with energy and purpose. This was why she was alive.

No. Not because of this. This was only to ensure survival. She mustn't lose herself. No matter what happened.

Elves appeared from everywhere, far more than she expected. Some stayed up in the trees, raining arrows and poisonous plants on them. A few darted around on the forest floor, but those were the easiest to track down and kill. While their numbers surprised her, she was even more astonished to realize none were using magic against them.

Beyond odd. Why were the elves not using their biggest strength?

Ivy sliced off an elf's hand, plucked an arrow off the ground, and rammed it into the shoulder of another one. Beside her, a troll gurgled, falling to the ground. An axe had been imbedded into his head — an axe whose handle was held by a goliath.

Thul. He smirked at her, lifted a shoulder in a non-apologetic manner, and engaged another combatant — an elf this time.

That goliath was going to get himself killed if he wasn't careful. Not about to watch over him and protect him, she rushed on, finding more elves to slay. Bodies of the wounded and dead littered the floor, and Ivy was hard pressed to find spots of grass or underbrush to step on. She soon gave up and grabbed a tree branch. With ease, she scaled it high enough to avoid being yanked out of it and walked along the tree branches, deeper into the forest. Something wasn't quite right here, and she was going to learn what it was.

The spaces between the trees grew, and she had to jump to the next branches to continue her trek. A decent ways removed from the battle, the desire for blood lessened within her, and she breathed easier, ready to climb down since she could travel faster on foot when she spied a barbarian's twisted body, his eyes glassy. Springald. He'd never enjoy another drink or sing another song.

Rage seized Ivy, and she clung to the tree's trunk to prevent herself from throwing herself back into the fray, not caring who she killed.

Think of Lukor.

Her body increased its trembling. Was he all right? He was more than able to handle himself. He, too, did not need to be watched over, and she appreciated that he respected her enough to not do the same to her. Although she did gaze about to try and find him.

And she did. In a clearing. On the ground.

A goliath straddling his prone body. An axe in both hands above his head.

The axe lowered.

Ivy screamed.

The barbaroness should have been too far away to do anything. But her fright for her love propelled her, and her legs churned faster than should have been possible. Another scream tore out of her, wild and rageful.

The goliath looked at her.

Lukor grabbed the closer axe's blade and shoved the other into the neck of the distracted goliath. Blood squirted from around the wound, arcing high and coating Ivy as she pushed the axe-goliath from Lukor's chest.

"I did not need to be rescued," he mumbled.

She silenced him with a kiss before kissing his eyes, his nose, his mouth again, his forehead.