Bloodlust Read Free

barbarian. The lone barbarian she'd ever killed.
    As always, the vexatious guard made no move to follow her command. "He could awaken at any moment."
    "And I am quite capable of handling him myself. Go or else I will pick you up and throw you."
    It was not an idle threat, but Angar chuckled. "As you command." He bowed his head and finally, mercifully, left.
    Ivy wasted no time rifling through the troll's clothes. His too-long arms, covered in coarse hair, dangled by his side. Upon lifting his arm, she gagged on his stench — a combination of body odor, rotten fruit, and decayed animal carcass. She was tempted to roll him into the water, even started to, when she located his coin purse. Smaller than her hand, the purse was made from troll hair. Disgusting. Inside, she located a scroll. She tucked it beneath her shirt when footsteps sounded. Angar had returned, with both a hide and another guard.
    She had no qualms allowing them to take the prisoner down to the dungeon and returned to her room. Ivy had no sooner sat on her rock bed than the door burst open, shards of rock and wood flying everywhere. Her father had never been one to knock, nor let a locked door stop him. Her bedroom door had been replaced many times over the years. Honestly, why he still allowed there to be a lock on it, she didn't understand.
    "You left your room."
    Since he asked not a question, Ivy remained silent.
    "Once again, you defy me."
    Her nerves tingled. Deep breaths would soon not be enough to calm her, and it appeared Father needed to take a step back or else he'd go all berserker on her.
    Strange. She feared him not. Never had. Never would. He did not love her. In truth, she did not know if she loved him. Love was one emotion she had never felt.
    "Angar is a sheep," she muttered the insult.
    "Angar is no sheep." Her father took one giant step toward her, filling her large room with his larger presence. "I have given him an assignment."
    Despite herself, Ivy gasped. Angar was her shadow on her father's orders?
    "No more patrols for you. Nor tower duty. Once the sun rises, you will..." Her father scratched his goatee. "You will make shields."
    "But..."
    He had already stomped out of the gaping hole that had been her door.
    Shields. Not even a weapon. At least there laid some honor with that. Her father not only did not think her capable of true work, he wished to berate and belittle her. As always. No barbarian worth his Bloodlust ever carried a shield.

    Kite shields. Heater shields. Who knew there would different types and sizes? Old Redforth was a grizzly barbarian with a gruff temperament and an even gruffer attitude. As much as Ivy hated being forced to work with him, he resented having the barbarian-princess as his apprentice.
    "Ya better be listenin' to me carefully." He eyed her as best he could given a scar sealed shut one eye. "Don't want ya father to rip me flesh off because ya burned yaself."
    She snorted. As if her father would care.
    Other than that warning, he treated her purely as an apprentice. For which she normally would have been grateful, but — shield making? Why on earth had Redforth ever taken up such a lackluster profession?
    He droned on and on about fire and temperatures and other such nonsense. Ivy nodded whenever he paused to catch his breath.
    Not listening a whit. Instead, she planned her escape.
    Hundreds of shields in various shapes, sizes, and materials lined the walls. That so many remained here, instead of on barbarians' arms or back, did not surprise her. Precious few weapons speckled the remaining gaps on the walls.
    One two-handed blade caught her eye, but it was too far out of reach. A good leap, and she could touch it, but the risk of knocking other items off their perches made it an impossibility. When the moment was right, she had to leave without hesitation. Leaps required a tremendous amount of leg muscle and timing to perfect it.
    She'd have to settle for a longsword. A griffin head formed the handle,