Pixilated

by Jane Atchley

  "No! We fought. That's all. Please, Sandahl."

  "You are mated!"

  "No. I don’t know what happened. One minute he was mad enough to strangle me and the next I'm seeing his soul colors."

  "Even I know it doesn't work like that."

  "Please, tell me what he is thinking?"

  "That they are his brothers. He wants them to like him. He thinks he should sit down so he will seem less intimating. Kayseri, what you’re claiming happened is not possible. Only intimacy brings the bond."

  "I know, but you have to believe me. We had a fight. A very big fight. The biggest ever, and then... It was just there."

  "Have you told him?"

  "No. And I'm not going to tell him. He'll think he has to do something."

  "He does have to do something."

  Kree pulled out a chair and sat beside Sandahl. "I’m Kree." The boys sat, following his lead. He gave them his lopsided grin, reached over, and helped himself to a strawberry from Roland’s plate.

  Roland pushed the plate toward Kree in case he wanted more. He leaned forward on his elbows. "Is it true you killed a sorcerer?"

  "It was nothing to brag about. I nearly died."

  The boys’ eyes were huge. Kayseri watched Kree’s aura send soft green tendrils out to touch their faces. He glanced at her with a wary smile, making her a part of the conversation. "Katie’s father has worked for years developing weapons that would be proof against magic. He’ll be glad to know one of them worked."

  "But you said you nearly died?"

  Kree let his gaze rest on boys one at a time. "It was not the fault of the weapon. We designed the weapon to break a casting and it did. My timing was faulty. Next time I’ll know where to compensate. The sorcerer," he gave them his grin full and fierce, "does not have the same option."

  "May we see this weapon?" William asked.

  "If you like." Kree turned his attention to Kayseri. For the space of a heartbeat, his aura exploded into a riot of color.

  "What?"

  "A snarl of thought," Sandahl sent. "I can’t untangle a single thread."

  The colors settled around him, silvery blue with a hint of pink warming its core. "I thought I’d take you and Sandahl shopping after breakfast. Would you like that?"

  "And now?"

  "He is adding figures in his head."

  "What?"

  The princess shrugged. "One plus one equals two. Two plus two equals four and so on."

  Kree took Sandahl’s shrug for dissent. "I thought ladies loved shopping," he said.

  "Oh, we do, My Captain." Kayseri assured him with a bright smile. "And it’s a lovely morning for a walk."

  "We’re going," the young Goddess-born chorused.

  Kree’s gaze flicked back to them. "If you like."

  ***

  Walk. As a cavalryman, Kree didn’t walk anywhere when he could ride. He pondered the absurdity of it while changing his saber for his bastard sword. The others waited for him downstairs. He could squash this idea with a word, but walking would please Kayseri and after shattering her so cruelly last night, he wanted very much to please her where he could.

  She had given him a wonderful gift greeting him with warmth, and now that he knew things between them could still be companionable, he was relieved. Provided he did not allow himself to become so fatigued it took every ounce of his willpower to put one foot in front of the other, he could keep his hands off Kayseri and keep his feelings for her buried under simple ciphering until the stars fell down. Kree rotated his shoulders, settled the sword’s weight on his back chuckling under his breath. He had a flare for drama he did, and he wondered from which of his parents he got that trait. He need not bury his feelings so long as that. Just long enough to finish his contract would do. Afterwards Katie would have her new life in Nhurstari, and he would have his old life in Qets. Why didn't the idea make him happier?

  He rejoined his companions in the drawing room and noticed how the boys mark his change of armament. They were curious, these boys. Clearly, arms were a mystery to them. Given his own upbringing, Kree wondered for what sort of lives these Goddess-born had be created.

  Their walk into town proved surprisingly pleasant. The boys keep his Wilderkin occupied with a steady stream of chatter. Very few townspeople approached them, and they reached the dressmaker’s shop with only two small delays at a bakery and a toyshop.

  Dame couturier, an elegant middle-aged woman with auburn hair and a foreign accent, cooed over the Wilderkin, and eyed Kree with bold interest. She listened avidly as he explained his needs and declared that his request impossible before she swept his charges away, calling for a small army of assistants. Kree and the boys stationed themselves in front of the shop settling in for a long wait. He watched the young Goddess-born twitching and yearning over his weapons until he could stand it no longer. "Don’t speculate. If you do not know, ask."

  They did. Roland wanted to hold the gryphon knives. He also wanted to see the gryphon brands which Kree promised to show him later.

  "Why did you change swords?" William wanted to know.

  "I didn't. I changed from a saber to a sword. Sabers curve. It is a slashing weapon meant for use on horseback. One needs the momentum of a gallop behind it for it to be fully effective. That’s not to say I can’t thrust with it. I can, but I’d be at a disadvantage and that is not a position from which I like to fight." Kree put his hand on the hilt of the bastard sword. "This weapon thrusts and slashes which makes it a better choice for standing combat." Handing one of the gryphon knives to Roland, he added, "These knives are best in close combat where there isn’t enough room to swing a sword. Do you see?"

  William studied the sword. "Why did you put it on your back?"

  Kree slid the fifty-inch blade free of its scabbard and handed it to the boy. The point dropped to the ground. William brought it level with his waist using both hands.

  Kree nodded at the sword. "It’s much heavier than you expected isn’t it? I don’t like that much weight dragging at my waist and since I'm wearing an arming harness anyway, I indulge myself."

  "Are you expecting trouble?"

  "Someone is trying to take my contract. That’s a solid fact. If I look like I'm ready for it sometimes trouble avoids me." He flashed his crooked grin. "For a little while at least. Aren’t they teaching you weaponry at the temple?"

  Roland gave the knife an awkward flourish before handing it back to him. "The rapier. Do you know it?"

  Gentlemen. They’re to be gentlemen. Times do change. "I know it. It’s not a cavalryman's weapon, and only a fool would challenge me with a thrusting sword." Kree shrugged. "It is bad luck to kill a fool."

  "Why should he be a fool?" Roland wanted to know. For his answer, Kree extended his arm.

  "Oh! Reach," the boys said, in unison.

  "This is fearsome." William swung the bastard sword side-to-side in a reckless manner. "I’d dearly love to know how to use this. Will you teach me?"

  Kree took the blade away from the boy before he hurt himself. "I’ll teach you the basic patterns this afternoon. Beyond that, you will have to seek out the current sword master. By the way, I’ll be selecting a few Templemen for a job tomorrow afternoon. It should be a fine display of sword work. You could squire for me if you like. Both of you."

  ***

  Kayseri moved swiftly along the stone pavement. Sunlight warmed the honed marble. This was their second full day in Arbala, and she couldn't wait to leave. She had seen Kree ride away early this morning, a clear silvery-blue nimbus crowning his head. She did not know if he had returned. Observation combined with Sandahl telepathic skill told Kayseri silvery-blue meant Kree was at peace. It was pure and balanced. People upset the balance and influenced the hues. People muddied his colors. She muddied Kree’s colors more than any other did.

  He positively sparkled while practicing long sword patterns with Roland and William yesterday afternoon. The boys struggled with them, but Kree danced through the same pa
tterns with flow and precision. For him those patterns were a moving meditation, and he dazzled the younger Goddess-born. They were his creatures now. Sparkle in Kree’s aura meant pleasure. If she could puzzle out what more of the colors signified, maybe she could understand the man. Sadly, the addition of his soul colors proved he had spoken true. She did not know him.

  Gathered in the music room after dinner last evening, Kree had played the piano. Kayseri had not known he played that instrument. When the Matriarch requested a song, he protested that he had not been a songbird before he had damaged his voice, but in the end, he chose a ballad that did not tax his range. His soft, airy voice had turned each note into a velvet caress. By the end of his performance, Kayseri was more in love with him than ever.

  William had played after Kree and Roland sang in a pure boyish soprano while Kree waltzed first the Matriarch and then several of the priestesses around the room. He had even danced with Sandahl allowing her to stand upon his feet as he'd done for Kayseri when she was little, but he had not dance with Kayseri. The only times during the evening's entertainment his aura was not a perfect sparkling silvery-blue was when he looked at her or talked to her.

  "Yo! Kayseri!" William jogged across the courtyard. "Good day to you, my lady."

  Pushing her sad ruminations aside, Kayseri smiled at the tall boy. "Do you know if My Captain has returned from town? I need to talk to him."

  Falling in beside her, William threaded her hand through his arm. "He got back just after the noon meal."

  "Do you know where to find him?"

  "In his room, he's sleeping."

  Pain touched her heart. She did not want to repeat her mistakes. "Is... he alone?"

  William snorted. "Of course, my lady. He said he wanted to rest before combat." The lad winked. "I don't think he needs it."

  Kayseri pulled William to a halt. "What combat? Who is he fighting?"

  The boy’s face brightened. "This is a combat for pleasure, my lady. He is hiring an escort for you and the princess." He puffed out his chest. "Roland and I are squiring for him. I was just on my way to tell him the candidates await his pleasure. Come, we'll walk together."

  William raised his hand to rap on Kree’s door, but it suddenly opened and Kree’s aura slammed into Kayseri. Dizzying riotous color swirled around her overwhelming her senses. The next thing she knew she was on the floor leaning against William's narrow chest.

  Kree pulled her into his arms, and snapped at William, "Fetch the healer."

  She stretched out her hand. "I’m fine." And she was. She was in Kree’s arms, and her body knew its mate. Kayseri relaxed into him relishing the feel of smooth skin over hard muscle. She inhaled deeply filling herself with his scent. She didn’t want to move. Her fingers touched his cheek. "You..."

  "I what, sweetheart?" Kree smoothed her hair back from her face. His gaze searched her face.

  "You smell so good." She felt his fleeting smile under her fingers, there and gone.

  "William, hurry with that healer. She's hallucinating."

  "I don't think smells are hallucinations.

  "Go get the healer, boy."

  "I don't need a healer," Kayseri said. "I was dizzy for a moment but..." She braced herself for another vertiginous wave and opened her eyes. "It's gone now." Kree’s silvery-blue corona infused with a warm pinkish glow, reaching almost to the outer edges. "I’m fine now." Oh, the look on his face.

  "Really?"

  Kayseri nodded and gave him a reassuring smile. He helped her to her feet and his silvery-blue balance reasserted itself as he stepped away.

  "You wanted me?"

  Forever. "The seamstress came for our final fittings this morning. Our new wardrobes should arrive sometime tonight." Sandahl joined them in the hallway drawn by the commotion.

  Kree favored Kayseri with his beloved grin. "Good. We can leave in the morning."

  "But Duncan isn’t here yet."

  "He’ll catch up. He is probably pushing Red Fist to the point of mutiny as we stand here." Kree's gaze drifted to William. "Are the candidates ready?"

  The boy’s excitement came back in a rush. "They’re waiting for you in the arena."

  ***

  William found a choice spot on the arena wall for Kayseri and Sandahl to watch the combat in comfort. Word of the afternoon’s sport had spread. Novices and lower-ranking priestesses crowded around the two Wilderkin. Templemen not chosen to meet Kree leaned or sat on the wall as eager as all the others to watch Kree's sword-work. Kayseri even spotted the Matriarch watching from her tower window.

  Seven chosen men waited in the arena making small talk with Kree while William and Roland inscribed a large circle at the arena's heart. William had explained the rules for this day’s combat to Kayseri. One won by disarming an opponent, by landing a killing blow with blunted blades or by forcing an opponent out of the circle.

  When all was ready, Kree pointed at the youngest man in the group. The fellow stepped into the circle radiating confidence. Kree crossed to where the boys waited for him, and stripped down to the handkerchief-thin sleeveless undershirt he always wore. Some of the bolder novices shouted for him to strip it off as well, but he raised his hand and shook his head. For reasons Kayseri had never discovered through mischief or questioning, Kree never bared his torso in public if he could help it.

  Kree accepted the blunted sword William offered him gave it a couple of practice swings, then barked loud burst of laughter and charged his opponent. Startled, the fellow jumped back, lost his footing and fell outside the circle. It was over that fast.

  Kree bent down and offered the man his hand. Kayseri saw the young man speaking, but Kree shook his head in response to whatever he’d said. Kree fought one man after the other throughout the afternoon. Most of them put up a good fight, but a few never laid a blade on him. No one defeated him. After the first round, Kree paired the men up, selecting the first young man as his partner. Then he went through the routine again fighting the men in pairs. He did not rest, only paused to gulp water between bouts. His aura shined bright as the sun. Kree was having fun.

  Next, he matched men up fighting them against each other analyzing their strengths and weaknesses for William and Roland. By sunset, Kree had found the pair he wanted, Fergus, the young man he had beaten with bravado and an old fellow named, Biggs, whose sword work had produced most of the red welts on his arms.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Kree led his reinforced party out of the city around mid-morning the next day. Rested, properly outfitted with Red Fist likely less than half a day behind, he felt light-hearted enough to entertain thoughts of success. True, he lacked a plan for approaching this Nhurstari prince, Rian, but this was a small thing. He would think of something. He always did.

  They traveled due north and soon left the cultivated farmlands supporting Arbala behind. The sky was azure, the suns bright, but an overnight cool snap promised a softer day. Kree cherished the hope that the scorching summer had finally lost its grip on the frontier. Cooler weather was easier on the horses, which in turn made for better traveling.

  It was easier on the Thallasi princess too. Four hours on the road and Sandahl still looked fresh as a new day dressed in a light blue riding habit complete with matching hat and gloves. Comfortably mounted on a new chestnut pony, she sung the epic tragedy Averill and Tam in the impossibly high, clear soprano only elves ever achieved. Kayseri joined in on the choruses. The song told a long tortured tale of star-crossed lovers who come to a bad end. Personally, Kree hated the song, but Biggs and Fergus were enchanted.

  His beautiful Katie look smart in bronze cotton velvet accented with creamy lace. She had pulled her glorious curls up in a high ponytail. For coolness presumably, but it showed off the lovely column of her neck very fetchingly. Kree licked his lips. He remembered the texture of her neck too well for his own good. Golden topaz glinted at her ears. The sight caused his chest to hurt. He took the vanguard to spare himself heartache and gave Biggs and Fergus th
e wing and the companionship.

  They stopped for lunch as the terrain began to turn mountainous again. Kree loosened the girth on his horse, stripped off his weapons harness, and slung it across his saddle. Biggs saw to the other horses, and Fergus appointed himself cook leaving Kree with nothing much to do. Unbuttoning his jacket, he stretched out under a tree and pulled up a long piece of grass twirling it between his fingers. After a while, Kayseri came to him him carrying an apple in each hand. She sat down on her knees across from him.

  Kree gave her a crooked grin. "You make that outfit look beautiful, little girl. Unless I miss my guess, you are well on the way to adding Fergus’ heart to your collection."

  Kayseri tossed her head setting her ponytail dancing. "One heart hardly makes a collection."

  "What about mine? It has been your captive since you were a wee little thing?"

  She stared at him so long and hard he regretted his jest, then she smiled. "Are you flirting with me?"

  "Maybe a little." Kree tickled her nose with the fuzzyheaded grass. "I can't seem to help myself. When a woman makes an outfit look as good as you do, she deserves a bit of flirting."

  "Thank you. A friend bought it for me." Offering him one of the apples, she took a bite out of the other.

  "Do I know him?"

  "You might. He’s a tall redheaded man. Very kindhearted."

  He swallowed a bite of the apple. "Hmm. You must know more than one redhead." She leaned forward and pushed at his shoulder. Kree obliged falling backward as if she possessed the power to topple him. Companionable silence fell between them.

  Kayseri finished her apple and tossed the core to the birds. "When do you think Red Fist will find us?"

  Kree rolled up on one elbow tossing his apple core after hers. "Duncan is pushing while I am not. I figure he’ll overhaul us sometime tomorrow. Midmorning probably."

  Fergus and Biggs had fallen into a sparring match to pass the time. Kree watched them in silence. Each time Biggs brought a hawking strike the younger man retreated and ended up with Biggs' blade at his throat.