Pixilated (3 page)

Kree crossed the marshaling yard briskly.
The urgency of the dispatches quickened his stride not the
desperate need to put distance between himself and Kayseri Bruin.
Sure it was
. He entered an office jammed with people all of
whom stood when he entered and loudly pressed their cases. While
Nadol, his secretary, struggled to regain order, Kree strode across
the room to a black oak sideboard and snatched up a silver decanter
of well-aged whiskey. He poured a double shot, tossed it back in
one gulp, and turned toward the crowded room.

"Ladies and gentlemen I cannot hear
grievances today. Something's come up. Come back tomorrow. Nadol
issue markers so these folks don't lose their place in line."

The town folk filed out, leaving Kree to
contend with his Elharan scribe, a handful of troopers, and a fat
oily-looking man he assumed was the current Malachite ambassador.
He gulped another double shot.

"You are dismissed." He poured again
swallowed, closed his eyes against the burn. When he opened them,
the troopers milled around the open doorway, and his secretary
stared at him as if he had sprouted another head. The ambassador’s
look said he had always suspected Kree Fawr was unhinged and now
had the proof.

"Out!" Pain lanced down Kree's throat.
Shouting was outside his damaged larynx's comfort range. In the
field, his first lieutenant did the shouting. Kree raised his voice
so rarely the effect was like kicking an anthill everybody
scurried. In mere seconds, he was alone.

Damn! Damn! Damn!
He almost kissed
Kayseri Bruin. He would have if that blessed boy had not arrived.
Kree poured another drink and brought it to his lips savoring the
smoky taste. What to do...avoid her? Qets was too small a town, and
the truth was he did not want to avoid her. Katie made him
feel...alive...fun. But he could not be alone with her. Ever. No
problem. Didn't he have half a dozen cadets in his personal
service?

Snagging the bottle off the sideboard, Kree
carried it into his bedchamber. High-pitched yelps greeted him. A
small fluffy white dog turned sightless eyes in his direction. He
owed this little dog. Nursing the pup back to health had given him
something to think about, besides his own agony throughout that
long bitter winter when he struggled to break his lifelong
addiction to Goddess nectar.

It is a well know fact that soldiers love
comfort, perhaps because they get so little of it and Kree was was
no exception. His love for comfort showed in his opulent,
custom-built bed. He threw himself down on plump down-filled
pillows stacked four deep against its high brass headboard. His dog
draped itself across his lap and dozed off again.

The problem with the never alone solution
was he could not stand people fawning over him all the time. It
made him crazy.
My Captain
. Kayseri started that nonsense as
little girl tagging after him in the practice yard. It spread
through the garrison and then through the town like a wildfire and
now he was stuck with it. No one called him by name anymore except
when he took a risky or unpopular decision.

A wry grin tugged at the corner of his
mouth. He was, like it or not, the beacon around which the citizens
of Qets ordered their lives, and by the Hells, he had better shine.
If their beacon was sometimes afraid of the dark, they did not want
to hear about it.

"Respect is a great thing, Moppet. Papa
always said so." Kree sipped his whiskey. "It's damn lonely too."
The dog gave a low moan and rolled onto its back in a show of
solidarity. Gulping down the remaining liquid in his glass and
carefully rearranging his dog, he poured another drink resolving to
get sock-eyed drunk if he remembered how. It would not solve his
Kayseri problem, but for a little while, he wouldn't care.

***

Back in the stable Kayseri did not know
whether to howl with rage or shout for joy. Kree almost kissed her.
He would have too if that cursed boy had not arrived.

At age twelve, she had told her father she
loved Kree and wanted to marry him. Her father, who by some
accounts was the most powerful wizard in the Kingdoms, tucked her
into bed, kissed her forehead, and said she had a crush on the
captain. Puppy love, he said. She would grow out of it, he
promised. Within a week, father had packed her off to her half-elf
grandmother in Elhar some six hundred miles away to make sure she
did.

Presented at the Thallasi Court, Kayseri
attended balls. She danced. She flirted, but she did not grow out
of it. Only one male spoke to her heart. Today he’d called her his
best girl and he’d almost kissed her. Kayseri cut her eyes to the
cadet saddling her horse.
Her horse.
He chattered away, as
children do, about what a fine animal it was. She crossed her eyes
at him. This inconvenient cadet would soon regret his interfering
ways.

Kayseri was not pixie-stupid. She realized
young ladies seldom grew up to marry a childhood crush. The
troubling thing was that in all her daydreaming she had not
considered the captain's age an obstacle. After all, what were mere
numbers to races who aged slowly? Clearly, Kree did not see things
in the same light. Here he was at the peak of his strength and
prowess calling himself old. He was the perfect age.

More worrisome still, Kayseri knew exactly
what sort of women attracted Kree, and she did not measure up. She
was not tall or blonde. Cornflower-blue eyes drew him in like
magnets; hers were plain brown. Whereas her skin glowed like
sun-kissed caramel, the captain craved pale complexions. And rather
than strengthening her claim on him, his connection to her family
distressed him. Since his wife’s death, avoiding emotional
attachment had become his credo, and getting him over these hurdles
would take more than mere cleverness. A kiss would have helped. She
just knew it.

That almost-kiss gave Kayseri hope. It
proved Kree felt attraction for her, but his reaction to it proved
his attraction to her did not please him. She knew Kree. He would
avoid her for all he was worth. What she needed was a plan, some
lure he could not resist. But what? Then it hit her, a riding
accident.

Chapter Three

Boom. Boom. Boom.

The captain slumped across his desk, head
cradled on his thick forearms. It was full dark and someone had the
colossal gall to pound on his door. Several of the mail packets had
fallen off the desk and scattered across the fine Thallasi rug. His
blind dog lay beside his foot chewing on the corner of one of them.
Kree cracked opened his eyes. He did not feel drunk. At least not
drunk enough, and whoever was pounding on his door had just pulled
stable duty for the next three cycles.

He raised his head. "GO AWAY." The stabbing
pain that followed reminded him once again why he did not
bellow.

The sound of his voice renewed the
offender’s hope.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

Make that six cycles of stable duty.

He lurched to his feet. The room made a
crazy tilt and he caught himself on the edge of the desk. Maybe he
was drunk. Taking a more-or-less direct route to the door, he
closed his eyes and paused with his hand resting on the knob.
The fort had better be burning down around my ears.
He
yanked open the door.

Davi stood in the hallway, soaking wet.
Something terrible had happened or this boy would not be here
risking his wrath. Kree’s chest started hurting. He thought he
might sick up his whiskey. "Where’s Katie?"

"I don’t know, My Captain."

I don’t know. Funny, how three little words
sobered up a man.
I don’t know
. Kree envisioned every sort
of disaster. In his mind’s eye, Kayseri bled out her life at the
bottom of some gully. The vision made him weak-kneed. The simple
act of drawing in enough breath for speech was beyond him.

The cadet filled the silence with
explanation. "She seemed like a good rider, My Captain. We were
having a fine time. I told her it was coming on dark and we ought
to head back, but she said pixies see just fine in the dark. Then
something spooked the horses. I don’t know what. I didn’t see
anything. But that sand colored she-demon you gave the lady—Wow! It
can run. Anyway, the thing is…my horse threw me. By the time I
caught my mount, I couldn’t find Miss Kayseri anywhere." The boy
gulped. "Do you suppose her father will turn me into a toad?"

Kree’s head cleared. "Where and when did
this happen?"

"On the north river road, My Captain, not a
half-hour ago."

Kree opened the door and ordered the young
cadet stationed there to fetch coffee, hot comfort brought to his
world by his patroness in Elhar. At the dry sink, he emptied a full
pitcher of cold water over his head and came up sputtering. "Go to
the stable, Davi. Have Storm saddled. Then get yourself out of
those wet clothes, and get something hot in your stomach." Kree
stripped off his shirt and struggled into another one. When his
head popped through the neck, his senior cadet had not moved.

Kree had been just six and ten when he
assumed captaincy of the garrison younger than the boy shivering in
his doorway was. He had needed all the experience available to him
back then, and for that reason, he did not stand upon military
protocol. To this day, his senior officers were quick to give him
large pieces of their minds when they felt the occasion merited,
but when he gave an order to a cadet, he expected instant
obedience.

"Is there something else?"

The cadet drew himself to attention. "Sir,
it is my duty to inform My Captain he is deep in his cups and in no
fit condition to ride out."

Kree’s voice was a dangerous flat whisper.
"Has there been a coup?"

Misery filled the cadet’s eyes, and Kree
regretted his temper. If something had happened to Katie, it was
not this cadet’s fault.
He
had promised to take Katie
riding. She’d be tucked up safe at home if he weren’t scared to
death of a little girl. Except Kayseri wasn't a little girl
anymore, and that's what had him hiding his his quarters. Her
father's words mocked him. Pixies and horses don’t mix. Kree
glanced at the ceiling then back at the cadet. Coffee arrived,
sweet and heavily creamed, the way he liked it. He waited until the
younger cadet withdrew before addressing his insubordinate
senior.

"Your concern is duly noted, Davi. You may
rest assured your captain has ridden to combat in worse condition.
I’ll admit it has been awhile, but I ought to be able to handle a
slow ride up a smooth road." He took a gulp of the steaming
beverage, burned his tongue, and cursed roundly. His cadet
fled.

Downstairs, some ten minutes later, Kree
found his horse in the marshaling yard as he had ordered. Chana
Falconer, whom the men called, Lady Bird, held the reins.

"Come to help?" Kree held out his hand.

The crusty swordswoman tossed the reins to
him. "You don’t need help making a fool of yourself. I hear you’ve
been doing a fine job all day."

"Good to know I’m still conversation fodder.
Who’d believe it?"

Chana stared at him, fists propped on her
slim hips. "She is a trifle young for you, don’t you think?"

A Sister of the Sword, Chana was the
garrison’s current sword-master. She had served his father as a
tracker. The upshot was she had known him from his youth and still
thought he needed feminine guidance. Most times, he humored her.
"She’s in stasis." He’d give a lot to have that comment back. He
was the fucking captain. He didn’t need to explain his actions.
"And you are out of line, Sister. We are talking about Lathan’s
daughter."

"I know who we’re talking about. Do
you?"

"If you have something to say, spit it out.
You know how I hate riddles."

"Kayseri Bruin is not injured. She is
infatuated with you. She has been for years. She wants you chasing
out into the night after her."

Kree swung into the saddle giving the sister
a curt nod. "I live to serve."

"Do you hear him?" Chana said into the air.
"I am trying to keep him from making a complete arse of his self,
and he gives me Temple-talk for, ‘I’ll do as I damn-well please.’
Kree, be reasonable, just once in your stubborn life!"

Ah. There it was his given name. Testimony
to just how foolish Chana found his present course. "I gave Katie
the damned horse. She is my responsibility."

Sister Chana threw her hands in the air and
walked away muttering, "Blind, stupid, stubborn man. Might as well
give advice to a fence post."

***

Kayseri urged Mistral through the woods at a
trot. When the wind tugged the ribbon from her hair, her tight
curls streamed free behind her. Moonlight painted the landscape in
a silvery glow. It was glorious. Dunking the cadet in the river had
not been part of her plan, but she didn't regret it. He deserved a
soaking for costing her that kiss.

Slowing Mistral to a walk, she surveyed the
area for a likely spot to fake her accident. She would sham a
sprained ankle, and then Kree would carry her. If she let Mistral
run free, she could ride back on his saddle. His strong protective
arms would be around her the whole way. She shivered, delighted by
the prospect.

Kayseri never doubted Kree would come
looking for her. His sense of responsibility made a riding accident
the perfect lure. Too bad, she’d had to spin so much mischief to
make it happen. Mischief attracted trouble the way magnets
attracted iron, but what other choice did she have. She shook off
her concern. Nothing bad happened in her father's woods. She really
believed that until an elf lurched out from between the trees.

"Help me," he cried out in High Thallasi,
before he pitched forward, sprawling on the ground.