Bloodlust (46 page)

Lukor examined his clothes. Luckily, his pants had remained unscathed save for one patch that luckily water lessened, even mostly removed. Sand helped to remove dirt, grime, and dried blood for his belt, but not so much his armor, so he removed it, opting to bare his chest.

Gold Tongue and Blue Ice approached.

"May we be a spectator of the proceedings or is that interfering?" Blue Ice asked.

A grin stretched across Lukor's face. "You may stay."

Gold Tongue held out his hands, and Lukor accepted the black tunic and pants. Behind tall bushes, he changed then stood in front of those gathered, waiting for Ivy to arrive. Dressed in silvery whiteness, Ivy looked ethereal as she approached him, a soft, gentle curve to her lips. Her long, muscular legs flashed between the long slits in her skirt, the bodice v-shaped, the lack of sleeves highlighting her defined shoulders. Everything about her — even the few bruises and small nicks — was beautiful. Perfect. Strong yet vulnerable. His Ivy.

He held out his hand, and she took his arm. As one, they approached Luna Ford. Ivy cupped her hands and dripped water onto his bent head. "May the sun always shine upon you and you never grow too cold."

Lukor did likewise, cascading water on her head, the droplets caressing her delicate face. "May water always sustain you and you never thirst."

Ivy knelt, picked up a handful of soil, and rubbed it onto his hands. "May the earth provide you food and you never hunger."

The goliath plucked a heart-shaped orange flower and placed it in her hands. "May the plants shade you and you never burn."

The two touched their hands together, fingertip to fingertip, palm to palm. "May our love be enough to guide us and show us the way to everlasting happiness," they said together.

Those gathered started to cheer as Lukor and Ivy closed their eyes, their hands still touching, their lips meeting in a sweet yet passionate kiss that promised their life together would have plenty of spark and fire, even if the world was at peace.

Lukor paced the stone floor of Orddia Stronghold. Moans and murmuring sounded from beneath the closed door, and he had to keep his tight circle so as not to burst it down and check on Ivy.

They had been married for a year now, a year of much change and relative peace. Halfway between Ordisium and Barbadia, along the route they had taken to the Rocks of Breakingham, he and his barbarian bride had set up their joint kingdom. Most of the goliaths and all of the barbarians had relocated there. The fraction of goliaths who remained in Ordisium had Lukor's blessing and were governed there in his stead by a goliath of their choosing. Or goliatha. Gremma. She had lasted half the year before passing, and the goliaths had then elected Darcia, even though she had been living in Orddia. His cousin returned home.

The convergence of the crown had been a wonderful experience, and the first time Lukor truly felt his people were indeed the goliaths and the barbarians, for not only did they allow Ivy to walk in the Garden of Orda, but the rest of the barbarians as well. His barbaroness had been in awe and had walked among the thousands of trees for hours after the ceremony concluded. He had been so happy, so full of love and vigor, that many flowers sprouted where he trod, including a few new species, never before seen on the earth.

After those gathered had left them alone in the garden, Ivy had grabbed his arm and set about wrapping a thin coil of metal. More and more metal she added to the first strand, bending it, entwining it, until it weighed a great deal. None of the other barbarians wore such a bracelet.

“I didn’t have the pieces necessary at our wedding,” she had explained, stepping back to admire her handiwork.

Her wedding present.

Goliaths did not give gifts or had tokens like rings of the humans or the barbarian bracelet as the tracing of the markings of another was a scared act, only bound by those already married. Considering Ivy’s tanned skin only had one tone, he thought it only fitting that she have a means to always see how much she meant to him.

Peace had settled the land. Not even the elves knew how long it would last for, but for now, as long as he, Ivy, and Zend ruled the goliaths, barbarians, and trolls, the world seemed a little less angry, a little brighter. Even the humans had ended the long, drawn-out civil war. As for the dwarves, they reclaimed their winged pests, stowing them away as a weapon should they ever need it. Hopefully, that would never be the case.

Still pacing, Lukor walked past a circular table with a glass encasement on top. How he loved to rib Ivy about her pet. The wingless dread. "So small a creature and yet so powerful too. Like you," she had teased. He, of course, had snorted. As if anything about him was small.

Moving past the creature, he paused in front of the lancet. The tall, narrow window with its arched top allowed him to see out onto their land. Grotto Province was not too far away, and Ivy had not given up hope that one day soon, a female human and a barbarian would fall in love. "No one race rules the world," she would always say, "neither do the stars."

Their surrounding village was flourishing, and the outdoor tree garden now contained five hundred different trees, goliaths, a few barbarians and humans, even a troll tending to them as he watched. But the budding plants weren't on his mind as another moan slipped from the other room.

The door opened. Anxious, Lukor raced over. Blue Ice barred his path, smiling, her pale blue lips stretching across her face. She rubbed her swollen belly as she said, "Come and see him."

"A son?" Lukor barely managed to not plow into the pregnant elf as he entered the birthing room. He kissed Ivy's damp and salty forehead. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes wide and bright. She truly glowed.

"Meet your son." Ivy handed the babe to him. She touched the ivy wrapped around her wrist — his gift to her. Whenever it showed signs of aging, Lukor only had to touch it, and the plant was reborn. Could other goliaths do the same? Perhaps. None had ever tried, as far as Lukor knew. Mayhap only the truest of loves, the kind that could create a new race, could also bestow such magic upon the world.

Lukor sat on the bed beside her and half-untucked a green blanket to see his sleeping son. With slightly pointed ears like his mother, even paler green skin than his father's, and only one shade at that, he was a sold mixture of them both. His tongue slipped out of his mouth — purple, unlike their pink ones. Certainly he had other differences from them too, but all Lukor could see was how perfect he was.

Lukor kissed his son's forehead, and his eyes opened — bluish-brown. He smiled sleepily, yawned with his little mouth, and snuggled into his father's chest.

"What is his name?" Blue Ice entered the room, Gold Tongue trailing her, their four-month old son and daughter toddling behind them.

Ivy glanced up at Lukor, and he nodded. Whatever name she had chosen was fine with him.

"Caradoc," she murmured, "for he is dearly loved."

"And his race?" Gold Tongue asked.

Now Ivy nodded to Lukor.

"Ogre," he said simply.

A new race for a new age. With any luck, Caradoc and his siblings would acquire the best of the goliaths and barbarians and the world would be a better place for having ogres within it. After all, most trolls and goliaths and barbarians, and elves, dwarves, and humans bettered the world. Why couldn't ogres too?