Pixilated (23 page)

Just after midnight, Red Fist armored in
blackened chain mail to protect them from the touch of Nhurstari
Talent, paused inside the tree line overlooking the lodge. Each of
the six assault members carried two crossbows adapted to fire two
bolts each. Once the bolts were gone, they would fall back to
lances, eight footers, and then to their sabers. Two stationary
bowmen were perched in the trees. Their job was to place
fire-arrows at Duncan's order and provide general cover. Although
Rian had assured Kree Nhurstari talent would not transfer to
animals, Kree insisted on horse armor. Horses were sentient beings
to anyone who spent as much time with them as cavalrymen did. They
had one shot at this; he wasn't taking chances.

Duncan reined in at Kree’s shoulder; he was
not surprised to see him there. His young officer planned things to
death. Maps were wonderful things, but his first lieutenant claimed
you never really saw the field until you saw the field. Kree
pointed to the creek running alongside the lodge.

"What do you think, Shug, what if we post
cadet slingers along that ridge and salt the creek with Natris
nonstop?" Duncan nodded and spoke briefly to his senior cadet. The
youth ran to put the order into action. Studying the building
through a field glass, Kree marked smoke curling from the side
chimneys warming the bedchambers. According to Rian, the south wing
quartered the women, the north, Hueil and his followers. "Can we
get a black-powder charge down that north chimney?"

Duncan squinted into the darkness.
"Maybe."

"Yes or no, Shug."

Raising his own glass, Duncan studied the
building a long moment, rode down the line to the bowmen, conferred
briefly, nodded and returned to the captain’s side. "It can be
done, sir."

"Have them do it, once we breach the
building."

"Yes, sir."

"And be careful out there."

The horses and the men were high, itching
for action. Pitching his practiced voice to a carry, Duncan called
to the assembled troopers. "Dress the line." The men brought their
mounts under control. "Red Fist, Captain Fawr bids us be
careful."

Red Fist responded as one. "First chance we
get."

The ritual observed, Kree nodded. "Step them
off, First Lieutenant."

Chapter Eighteen

Playing solitaire with Nhurstari cards was
difficult, but not impossible. Biggs had been at it since supper.
He assessed his companions. Rian possessed the eerie talent of
sitting perfectly still for hours on end. Biggs had not seen the
elf so much as blink. It made a fellow jittery.

He could not help but notice the fine
tremble in his own hands as he laid the cards one atop another.
Maybe it was a lack of Goddess nectar making him jittery and not
Rian’s utter stillness. Biggs was luckier than most. He needed the
nectar every couple of days. Goddess-born like the boss used it
every day. Be ready, the boss said. Biggs could not remember seeing
Kree take nectar at all. Maybe it was true what people said about
that one. He wondered how the boss fared.

Over in the far corner, Fergus taught rock,
paper, scissors to one of the twins. Eoin maybe. The elf had won
the last five bouts. The poor foolish lad, no one loses five times
in a row, even if one takes paper every time. The elf was probably
reading his mind.

Alrick and Garen deliberated over a board
game, the strategy of which consisted of blocking your opponent’s
progress by placing little round stones on a grid. Eamon watched
the play, volunteering advice, first to the one then the other.
Maybe that one’s Eoin. The first explosions nearly made Biggs jump
out of his skin.

Rian moved, lifting his eyes toward the
cellar’s high window a mere second before it burst inward. A cloth
wrapped package dropped through the window.
Be ready
. Biggs
was on the bundle before it hit the floor, passing out the enclosed
weapons, swords for the Nhurstari and Fergus, an axe for himself.
Biggs attacked the cellar door. More explosions rocked the night,
the sounds of running feet and Nhurstari screams drifted through
the broken window.

***

Natris was a wonderful thing. A volatile
solid, Duncan called it. It required special handling, but then
Kree had someone special. He'd fallen in love with this stuff the
first time Duncan demonstrated it. The soft metal exploded in water
in a spectacular fiery show. It produced heavy clouds of steam as
thick rolling fog. Superior to Kree’s mind than black powder since
it did not make him cough or sting his eyes. Duncan disagreed,
preferring, as always, things he could control.

Red Fist struck fast, less than a quarter
hour from step-off until a site was secure, any longer, and Duncan
aborted. The unit was the first lieutenant's passion, his
invention. He handpicked and trained its personnel. Red Fist
executed raids fast and flawlessly. All of this Kree knew, and it
still seemed to him they charged in slow motion.

Duncan’s booming voice shouted, "Get on the
ground, stay down, and live," over and over and over as a mantra.
Nhurstari ran in all directions, but the squad's scissor formation
caught them up. The order to ‘get on the ground’ echoed around Kree
from the rest of the squad members. Leaving enemies on his backside
ran contrary to Kree's Goddess-born training. The Goddess Namar was
not merciful. She did not teach mercy to her sons. He saved his
voice and pushed forward. By the time the black powder charge
exploded in the north upstairs corner, Kree's crossbow bolts and
lances were long gone and his saber was slick with Nhurstari
blood.

He urged his horse up the wide stone steps
fronting the lodge. As his wingman, Duncan followed tight on his
flank. His man took holding formation seriously even if Kree did
not. Clouds of stinging acrid smoke billowed down the stairs. The
battle song of steel on steel sang to Kree from the rear of the
building. He laughed. His Templemen were free.

Rebel Nhurstari poured out of the
smoke-filled stairwell. Duncan shouted ‘get down, stay down’
nonstop. Kree killed any who did not comply fast enough. Hueil
burst out of the smoke almost onto Kree's blade just as Rian raced
out of the alcove underneath the stairs.

"No! Kree Fawr, do not kill him," Rian
shouted.

Kree’s saber point rested beneath Hueil’s
ear. "Live snakes hatch new rebellions. I don’t mind ridding you of
your snakes."

Rian glanced about his great hall. "I can
see you don’t. But killing is not the Nhurstari way. I will ask for
hostages as a part of Hueil's ransom. It will be well, Kree
Fawr."

Kree wiped the bloodied steel on his
saddlecloth and glanced at the Templemen panting at Rian’s
shoulder. "Biggs, you and Fergus help Rian set this place in order.
We’ll leave our cadets here to assist you."

"Garen and twins will see to clean up and
take hostages." Rian looked up at Kree. "I am coming with you."

"Don’t take this the wrong way, Rian. I
appreciate the offer. I really do. I just don’t want the added
responsibility."

"If your lady is injured, I can help
her."

Kree considered this. "Duncan, take him up
behind you. You are responsible for him. Call the Fist to
formation."

Red Fist wormed its way through trees that
seemed to stretch out roots with the intention of entangling the
horses’ hoofs. They had been paralleling Colt’s trail for more than
three hours. Duncan would not step up the pace. He saw no reason
for haste even under threat of severe injury. Kree had sworn to
pound his man senseless repeatedly, but Duncan remained unmoved. In
the first lieutenant’s place Kree would do the same, protect the
horses, a fact that brought him cold comfort.

Fear for Kayseri’s safety crouched like an
ice dragon on his chest. Battle madness licked at the inside his
skull. A near crushing desire for Goddess nectar raked fiery claws
across his stomach from the inside out. He wanted to run wild.
Fishing the vial of Goddess nectar from his belt, he worried it
between his thumb and forefinger. Something in the formula made the
metal vial warm to the touch and just the feel of it soothed him a
bit. He felt the weight of Duncan’s gaze.

"Don’t piss about, Shug. If you have
something to say, spit it out."

"You don’t need to resort to nectar, sir. We
have been in worse jams."

"Have we?" Kree barked a laugh. "Clearly you
don’t appreciate the magnitude of the jam we are in. I cannot
control my emotions. Believe me I’ve tried. I want and I don’t know
how to stop wanting. Do you know what it’s like to want something
every minute of the day knowing you can never have it?"

Something in Duncan’s expression said he
understood Kree didn’t mean the Goddess nectar. "Sir, you are a
powerful man, a man of rank and distinction. No one refuses you
anything. To whom must you answer?"

"So you think I should take what I want
because I can. I’ve been there, done that. It does not end well.
Answer me this, does power make me right or make it mandatory for
me to do what is right?"

Kree's brilliant first lieutenant stared at
him, trying to gage his mood in the moonless gloom. "I- I do not
have a solution, sir."

Kree gave a bitter chuckle. "I don’t either,
Shug, but until I do I think I should lean a little on the side of
doing what’s right." He glanced at Rian perched behind Duncan
clutching the first lieutenant’s waist as if for dear life. "You’re
a leader of men— uh, elves, Rian. What do you think?"

"I think you do not understand the nature of
the Nhurstari Majority, and I do not understand the nature of
men."

***

Colt’s rough fingers scraped along the back
of her neck. Kayseri shuddered. Pressed as she was between the
pommel of Colt's saddle and his body, she felt him chuckle. His
body was hard where his crotch pressed against her backside. A
scream crawling up her throat, but she swallowed it. Terror fed
this evil man's lust, and she vowed not to give it to him. With a
subtle twitch of her fingers, Kayseri sent his troop’s packhorses
crashing willy-nilly into the murky forest for a third time. It was
simple pixie mischief, but it was new to her capture. He cursed in
her ear.

"You are bringin’ me hell’s own luck, tart."
A stinking steam of tobacco arced past Kayseri's cheek. "You had
better be worth it."

She licked her swollen lower lip and
silently celebrated another small victory. It had taken Colt’s men
more than two hours to round up their packhorses. Full night found
them stranded on the mountain. What should she do now? Should she
keep them on the mountain and wait for Kree to find her or escape
tonight while there were forested slopes enough to hide a pixie
forever.

The mercenaries sprawled around their cook
fires passing around bottles of Nhurstari wine. They battered her
with insults and crude jokes as she stirred the simmering stew.
Colt had not raped her because there had not been time, what with
rounding up packhorses and such. But she knew he would as soon as
he sucked enough cruelty and libido out of the wine. It should not
take him long. Colt had cruelty to spare. He craved her pain,
hungered for her terror. A shudder rocked her resolve to be as
fearless as her captain was. She steadied herself breathing deep
the way Kree did before a fight. She was not helpless, not quite
yet. She had mischief in her fingertips and it was going right into
the stew.

***

A gull’s cry cut through the night. Duncan
reined his horse in and gave an answering call. Five minutes later
a scout joined them. The trooper gave a crisp two-fingered salute
to the first lieutenant and then to Kree.

"My Captain. Well met."

The captain returned the gesture with the
smallest trace of impatience. Red Fist was Duncan’s squad. Duncan
wanted— No, Duncan demanded military protocol from subordinates.
Kree was indifferent to it.

"Stephan," Kree acknowledging the man with a
slight nod. "What do we know?"

"They’ve made camp a little more than a
furlong down slope. You should lose the horse armor if you’re
counting on surprise because you are clanking worse than an army of
tinkers."

Dropping out of his saddle, Kree began
stripping his horse. "How’s Katie holding up?"

"That little lady has spunk. I'll give her
that. She’s been dealing them mischief all day long. She's pulled
every pixie trick my mama ever warned me about. Why, she ran their
packhorses off three times today. If she had not done that, it’s
likely I would have lost them. Now I think she’s curdled their
rations. They’re groaning and holding their stomachs. Looks to me
like that bunch don’t know much about pixies." Stephan grinned.
"You'd be right proud of her, My Captain. I know troopers who don’t
have half as much brains or courage." Low-pitched chuckles filled
Red Fist's close-packed ranks. Even his normally reserved first
lieutenant smiled. Kree brushed at his eyes with the back of his
hand, glad of the darkness.

***

"You worthless bitch! You’ve poisoned
me!"

Kayseri darted aside, but Colt's fist was
lightening. The blow made her ears ring. She fell hard on her side
and rolled into a tight ball.

Colt grabbed a fist full of hair pulling her
to her feet. "You think it’s going to save you do you, tart?" He
staggered backward and tore open his trousers. "I'll have you first
then strip you naked and let my men take a turn."

Putting action to his threat, Colt twisted
his fist in her bodice and ripped it to the waist. He pulled her
close assaulting her mouth with a hard brutal kiss. His teeth cut
into her lower lip. Blood filled her mouth. His breath stank of
vomit, and Kayseri fought down bile. A sudden commotion outside the
tent pulled Colt up short. Shouting! Horses! Ringing steel
intermixed with raspy laughter and the thrum of crossbows.
Kayseri’s heart soared. Kree had found her and not a minute too
soon because she was out of mischief.